Fabulis Ex A Bibliothecarius
by LuxaLovesLawnmowers
Summary: Albireo may live under Library Island now, but he used to go on many an adventure. On a lonely day in his home he decides to divulge a story or two. A twist on life and love, because Albireo has led a very long life and has had many loves.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

I must be crazy. I already had a chapter fanfiction going, and that's already eating up my time. But I wanted to do this, so I decided to anyway. It probably won't be too long of a story, but I'll have fun writing it. It's basically going to be Albireo telling stories of his life to a few class 3-A students. I hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

"Welcome to my humble home."

Albireo sat on a hard-backed chair, a teacup poised to drink, a book in hand. He was the perfect picture of a refined gentleman, or as Asuna and Chisame saw it, a pansy.

"Humble?" scoffed Chisame. "You call this skyscraper humble?"

"Skyscrapers, I believe, are above ground. Please do your research." smirked Albireo.

Konoka looked around, a finger to her lips. "This place is just as pretty as last time. Do you have to clean a lot?"

"Oh, no," chuckled Al. "I do my cleaning with magic."

"It's that handy, huh?" grumbled Asuna, wishing she had magic to clean her room.

"Very."

Chisame rolled her eyes. "I'm not buying it. I bet you spend half your day in an apron, running around cleaning the place."

"I can see it." nodded Konoka thoughtfully.

"How amusing," said Al. "Why don't you sit?"

"Why'd you invite us here?" asked Chisame, crossing her legs and glaring at Al intently. "You have to have a reason, right? How about it, perverted eggplant?"

"I see you've been taking lessons from Eva, Chiu-sama."

"Don't call me that!" Chisame sat there quietly, wildly wondering how he knew about her alter ego.

"I was simply lonely. I thought I could use some company."

They stared at him. "Seriously?" said Asuna. "That's _it_? We had to walk all the way down here to make you feel less _lonely?_"

"Don't be mean," chided Konoka. "I'd love to talk with you, Ku:Nel-sama."

"What the hell are we going to talk about?" muttered Chisame.

"Tell us a story!" demanded Konoka, clapping her hands excitedly.

"A story?" questioned Al mildly.

"Yes, a story! Negi says you're older than you look. You must have done some really cool things, traveling around with Nagi-han and all." replied Konoka.

"I do have a few tales...what would you like to know about?"

"Anything interesting," said Chisame rudely. "I don't want to be bored out of my mind while I'm here, you know.

"Anything interesting? I'll try to think of something..."

* * *

And so it begins...Konoka has a Kansai dialect, and so while you don't hear her say it much, she says han instead of san. Perverted eggplant (ero-nasubi) is Eva's nickname for Al, and it's the equilavelent of calling someone a horse face. The title means "Stories from a librarian" in Latin.

This was just the Prologue. It'll get going next chapter. Reviews are welcome, but not expected, since I know how few people read Negima fanfictions!


	2. 1982 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

I enjoyed writing this. I enjoy writing Al a lot. I hope you enjoy it too!

* * *

"A Nagi story? Hmm...how about the first time I met Nagi?"

"That could be really boring..." replied Chisame skeptically.

"Please, have a little faith in me," smirked Al. "Would I tell you a story that wasn't interesting?"

The girls exchanged glances. "If you thought it was funny you would."

"I don't," said Al pleasantly. "I think the story might be fun."

"Your fun or our fun?" asked Asuna.

"Your fun."

"Maybe..."

Al launched into his story. "Nagi, who was traveling with your father Eishun," He nodded towards Konoka. "Was only thirteen at the time. Only three years earlier he had won the martial arts tournament here at Mahora, and had since been enlisted to fight with the army in the Magic World. Being Nagi, he decided to take a tour of the United States before he left. Coincidentally, I was also traveling there, albeit in a somewhat different manner..."

Despite themselves, the girls found themselves being drawn into the story...

* * *

Albireo sipped his coffee, wrinkling his nose slightly at the taste. He would have preferred tea, but tea didn't quite keep him awake during the long nights.

"More coffee, honey?"

Albireo smiled at the waitress, who was poised above his coffee cup with a pot.

"Yes, please."

He was sitting at a stool in a small diner he'd found when his eyes hadn't quite been able to stay open the way he wanted them, and stopped to refuel both his truck and his body.

The waitress, a young woman with bottle-red hair, smiled back. "Are you a trucker?" Normally she assumed anyone coming in at this hour was, but this man looked so...so _delicate_, that she had to ask.

"I am," replied Al, to her surprise. "I'm on my way to Albuquerque."

"Where're you heading from?"

"Kalamazoo."

The waitress whistled. "A long haul."

Al shrugged slightly, his slender hands wrapped around his coffee. "I suppose."

The door dinged, and two truckers entered, looking a little worse for wear.

"Jean, can we get some coffee over here?" called one. Al recognized him. His name was John, and they'd met several times before.

"Of course. If you're paying, that is." said Jean, shooting the man a look.

"I'm not stupid enough to come otherwise." snorted John. He cast his gaze around the cafe and set his eyes on Al. A grin broke out across his face. "Al, is that you? Can't believe I'm seeing you here!"

"Quite odd, I'll admit."

John slid into the seat across from Al, and the man's friend followed suit. "What've you been up to, you old dog?"

"Same as always. On my way to Albuquerque."

"Houston, myself. This is Carl. He's going to Kansas City."

"Should've been there yesterday," muttered the large, bearded man. "I don't really have time for this."

Al pinched the bags under his own eyes. "Haven't been getting much sleep myself." He was half the size of both men across him, and his hair was twice as long as theirs. His looked more at home with a teacup than a mug and didn't look like he could even climb into a semi, let alone drive one, but he still managed to do it. He'd grown bored in the Magic World and had decided to take a break in the Old World, so he'd hidden himself in America and gotten a job as a truck driver...two days after he acquired his license. He was enjoying the change of pace.

He chatted with his friends for a few minutes, but had to excuse himself. "I'm afraid to say, I must be going. I only stopped to wake myself up."

The truck drivers nodded. "See you." grunted John and Carl.

"Goodbye." He paid his tab and left a generous tip for the waitress.

As Al was pushing the door open he heard Carl mutter, "What a pansy."

"Shut up," defended John. "He saved my life once. Don't judge a book by its cover."

Al let the door shut behind him. He breathed in deeply, allowing the crisp winter air to envelop him. He wandered over to his truck and started the engine, ditching his unzipped coat as soon as he was in. It would take a moment before the heat was warm, but when it was there would be no need for long-sleeves.

It was after midnight, and Al was one of the few people left awake at that hour. He slowly pulled out of the parking lot and made his way back onto the highway, which was almost deserted. He kept his eyes on the road, watching the trees fly by and the moon creep down in the sky. Automobiles in general amazed him. Sometimes he woke up in the back of his truck and believed the past two hundred years were a dream. The Industrial Revolution had quickly made him feel very old, spewing out machines every year that boggled his mind. He'd never let on- he had made sure to study the mechanics of all of them and had even invented a few things himself, but he'd assumed the majority of humanity would never be able to imagine the thing that he, having been alive so long, had thought of. He had thought the society would develop slowly, a great invention made every few centuries, such as Johannes Gutenburg's movable type.

He refocused on the road. One of the reasons that he'd bought this truck was to give himself something to do. As the years passes, he had fallen into a practice of introspection so deep he could lose himself for hours. He'd met people who had given themselves so over to thought that they had fallen into a haze, where they were lucid only once or twice a year. Sensing this might happen to himself, he had hightailed it out of the magic world and had gone to the New World.

A car turned into the lane next to him, swerving a little. Al saw rental plates and wondered briefly about the occupants. On their way to the West Coast for winter break, maybe?

The car switched line directly in front of him, and Al slowed down. He peered at the car, and just as he looked they moved back into their original lane. He realized their sunroof was open and snickered. Was that on purpose? He doubted it.

He saw an asian black-haired man in a turtleneck driving, with a red-head kid draped in a white coat squabbling in the passenger seat. The red-head glanced his way, saw the truck, and made the honking motion. Albireo obliged them, honking the horn. The noise surprised even him with its loudness. He was sure people in other cars didn't appreciate it.

He saw the black-haired man yell at the kid, and they soon started swerving badly as the kid started messing with the driver. Al watched as the car drove straight into a ditch on the side of the road. He slowed his semi to a stop and hopped out, landing lightly.

The rental car was smoking from the hood, and as he got out he heard the sound of arguing.

"Hello." said Al loudly.

The man and the boy both looked at him in surprise. "H-hello," stammered the asian man in halting English. "I thank you...stop...helping...fix...automobile?"

"Thanks for stopping," chirped the red-head in a Welsh accent. "That horn is cool."

"Thank you. Is your car going to be all right?"

"Probably not. Eishun drove it straight into the ditch! It was awesome!"

"Eishun probably doesn't think so."

Albireo switched to Japanese, the language he thought they had been arguing in. "My name is Albireo. Is there anything I can do?"

Eishun looked relieved at the sound of his native language. He stuck out his hand awkwardly, and Al delicately shook it. "I'm Eishun Aoyama. This idiot is Nagi Springfield."

Both names stuck a chord within Al. Eishun Aoyama was the leading member of the Kyoto Shinmei School, thought to be the next head of the clan. Nagi Springfield was the prodigy of Wales, and had recently won a martial arts tournament in Mahora academy, the headmaster of which was a friend of his.

"Nice to meet you. I'm afraid your car looks like it's going to be out of commission for a while."

"Yes, well..." Eishun shrugged, embarrassed. "We'll find somewhere to stay tonight."

"We're you headed?"

"Wherever we want!" exclaimed Nagi. Albireo now saw that he was wearing a mage's cloak.

"I'm on my way to New Mexico. You could come, if one of you don't mind sitting on my bed."

Nagi looked excitedly at Eishun. "Could we?"

"We don't want to impose, Nagi..."

"It wouldn't be imposing. I could use some company." Al smiled.

"Are you sure? You don't even know us."

"I've picked quite a few hitchhikers in the past few years. It's no big deal."

"I'm going, Eishun. You can come if you want." Nagi retrieved a small backpack from the smoking car.

Eishun sighed. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

"He apologizes a lot." informed Nagi.

Nagi jumped into the passenger side of the truck, and Eishun climbed into the back, where Al's bed and possessions were. He examined the quilt curiously, as it had been handmade and was very old. He looked around the cramped space, and realized that everything Al owned was crammed in this space (this was not quite true, as he had several million dollars and countless priceless artifacts from every time period stored in areas all over the world). There was a small shelf where Al's favorite books were kept, and beneath that there was a small hand-painted doll and two boxes, one labeled "Evangeline" and one labeled "Love" in Latin. Eishun left those alone.

Al started the truck. Next to him, Nagi yawned. "Don't you wonder where we're from?"

"Wales and Japan."

"...How did you know?" pouted Nagi.

"Your accents."

"Damn," whined Nagi. "And I love making people guess."

They drove, and Nagi chatted for some time. Al listened, while Eishun fell asleep in the back. The poor man was probably run ragged taking care of Nagi, who, as far as Al could tell, could only be twelve or thirteen.

"I'm going off to war soon..." Al could tell Nagi meant to say this with his usual excitement, but his voice trailed off halfway through.

"Nagi!" Eishun hissed.

"War? Aren't you a little young?" said Al steadily, actually trying to remember what war was going on currently. Wasn't it Hellas? Or was it in the Old World?

"Yes I am." declared Nagi.

He took a chance. "Against Hellas?"

Nagi and Eishun exchanged glances. "You're a mage?" asked Nagi, awed.

"Of sorts."

"What're you doing driving a truck? Did you get exiled or something?"

"Don't be rude." muttered Eishun wearily.

"Exiled? Nothing of the sort. I enjoy this job. I've heard that it doesn't suit me, but I like it."

"It _doesn't _suit you," agreed Nagi. "You're a bit of a pansy."

Eishun reached from the back and slapped Nagi hard on the head. Nagi laughed it off.

Al did too. "I've heard that before."

Eishun came to a sudden realization. "Did you say your name was Albireo?"

"Hm? Yes."

"Albireo _Imma_?"

"That'smy name." Al had spent most of his life under a different name, as he didn't want to constantly be recognized for the immortal being he was, but every now and then an exploit of his leaked out.

"Who's that?" asked Nagi, oblivious.

"You're the man who stopped time and saved the Vampire Legion from being destroyed!"

"Was that me? I don't quite remember."

"I don't get it though...why _are_ you out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"I wouldn't call midwestern United States _nowhere_." replied Al.

"You disappeared twenty-five years ago..." said Eishun in awe.

"Twenty-five years? Dude, how old are you?" asked Nagi.

"Haven't you heard that it's rude to ask someone's age?" This was Al's usual response to that question and had been for the past two hundred years.

Al laughed as Nagi pouted. "You don't answer any of my questions."

"It's a habit of mine."

Albireo returned to driving, most of his attention on the road, a small part of him listening to Nagi's ramblings. Time passed, and Eishun fell asleep in the back-seat. Dawn was approaching, and Al's eyes were slowly closing. He hadn't slept in some time, running on coffee and his considerable self-control.

They passed a welcome sign for New Mexico, and Al headed for the welcome center. He needed another cup of coffee if he was going to finish his run without sleep.

"You're like a machine," said Nagi, yawning. "I can't believe you haven't needed to sleep yet."

Al smiled slightly. "It's a talent."

"Dude, how can that possibly be a talent?"

He got out of the truck, stretching his legs. Nagi hopped out, and Eishun continued snoring in the back.

Al bought a cup of instant coffee from a vending machine. Predictably, it was awful, but Al drank it anyway. Nagi got his own cup and spit it out, declaring it disgusting.

"Wow," said Nagi. "Look at all this desert! There's no one here! I can see a cactus!"

"You'll see a lot more before the day is over." remarked Al.

Nagi ran around aimlessly for a few minutes before Al called out to him, "Nagi! Could you do me a favor?"

"Whaa?" was Nagi's response.

"I'd like to see a demonstration of your power."

"We could spar?" suggested Nagi.

Al laughed. "I couldn't possible spar with you, Nagi. I'm sure I'd be no match." His real reason for not fighting was that he was wearing jeans, and they sure did chafe when he flew into the air. He preferred skirts, but there was a limit to how justifiably pansyish he could make himself look while driving a truck.

Nagi crossed his arms. "How do I show you my power, then?"

"It's up to you. You're clever, I'm sure you can think of something."

Nagi sneered at him, annoyed. "I hate thinking..."

Nagi fell into a fighting stance, and Albireo watched, buying himself another coffee. Nagi let out a huge cry and ran towards- and Al's heart suck slightly when he saw this- Al's truck, punching it with a huge combination of magic and chi that blew a hole in the side, letting thousands of Twinkies pour out of the truck.

"Wow," said Al lightly. "Amazing."

Eishun came running out the truck, yelling obscenities in Japanese.

Nagi looked sheepish. "You did say to show you my power."

"I meant in an _undestructive _manner." replied Al calmly.

Eishun looked at the damaged truck. "H-how much do I owe you?"

"Hm...two hundred thousand for the truck, and another hundred thousand for the load you destroyed."

Eishun blanched. "I think I could pay you...maybe. If I tap into my retirement fund I could pay most of it, and then I could borrow for the rest..."

"That's quite all right," laughed Al. "I'm perfectly capable of paying it myself. I can always buy another truck."

"I can't just let us owe you this much money!" protested Eishun, smacking Nagi on the back of the head several times for good measure.

"Let me travel with you, all expense paid. I'm sure you'll pay me back eventually with all the meals you'll be buying." said Al. He felt that this was a good deal. He liked to be where things were interesting, and he was certain that with Nagi Springfield things would _always _be interesting.

"It would be an honor," said Eishun, thrilled at the idea of _the_ Albireo Imma traveling with them. Although, now that he thought about it, he couldn't really recall what he was famous for...

Nagi scratched his head. "I don't know, dude, you're kind of creepy..."

"Nagi!" Eishun slapped Nagi yet again.

"I'm just saying!" whined Nagi.

"That's quite alright. I'm quite strong, if I do say so myself. I'll be a help in the fights to come."

He pulled out his checkbook and wrote a check for the price of the load to the Hostess company. He'd send it as soon as they got to the next town. Then he pulled the quilt, the two boxes, the books, and the hand-painted doll, placing them all in a bag that he gave to Eishun to carry.

"We're off then." declared Nagi.

"Where to?" asked Al.

"Are we just going to leave the truck here?" worried Eishun.

Al glanced at it. "Sure. It'll be a monument."

"A monument to what?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." said Al, smiling.

It was the first of many, many smiles Nagi and Eishun would receive n their days together as Ala Rubra.

* * *

"Wow," breathed Konoka. "Was that all true?"

"Every detail." said Al smugly.

"I find it very hard to believe that you were a truck driver..." grumbled Chisame.

"Why?" questioned Al politely.

"You're just so...so...so _quaint_. If anything, I'd say you were the innkeeper of a bed and breakfast, you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I think so. But I promise you, that was a true story."

"Nagi sounded so little!" squealed Konoka.

"He was young." said Al.

"Those truckers sounded liked they could have broken you in half." commented Chisame. Al chose to ignore this remark.

"My dad was...lame." said Konoka sadly.

"A little bit." agreed Asuna.

"Look at the time," said Chisame, checking her watch. "We have to be back in the dorms soon."

"Really?" asked Konoka, sounding unhappy. "I wanted to listen to another story."

"Could we come back?" asked Asuna hopefully.

"I...wouldn't mind come back either." admitted Chisame.

"Anytime. I'm not going anymore." Al had long finished his tea, but he couldn't help finger the cup.

"We'll be back tomorrow!" chirped Konoka as they head out the door.

* * *

There it was, the first chapter! I hope you liked it! I think Al fits seamlessly into every culture and time period, even if he looks a bit...odd. Next time: 1960s' prison! Maybe, I just made that up.

Review! :)


	3. 1864 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

I'm sorry for the super long delay, but I lost my flash drive, which had a half-finished Wild West chapter, and then the Alcatraz chapter I was writing tanked, so this took forever. Sorry!

I'll be honest, this isn't my favorite chapter. Also, if you don't like gay people, don't read this. In my opinion, this isn't pointless yaoi, I'm just writing Albireo the way I view him- willing to have sex with anyone he really likes.

This chapter mentions the Shinsengumi, a police force in Japan in the 1860s. A recap is pretty important if you want this chapter to make any sense. Okita Souji was the captain of the 1st Unit, and he was the best swordsman. He died of tuberculosis at age 26. The Shinsengumi is most well known for its raid at the Ikedaya Inn, where they prevented the Choshu clan from burning down Kyoto, which in my opinion is a very good thing. I don't care whose side you're on politically, burning down a city is bad. A youkai is the Japanese word for a demon.

EDIT: Hated the original for this chapter, so I edited it to make it bearable. It's better now, trust me.

P.S. Has anyone seen the new Negima Final? I feel like I got gyped of Albireo time...

Anyway, I hope you like it. Enjoy!

* * *

"Story, story, story, story!" chanted Konoka. "Tell us a story!"

"What did you think I was going to do?" replied Al.

"I dunno. Tell us a story?"

Chisame slid into a seat next to Al. "I have to agree with her. Tell us something good."

"I have one prepared," smirked Al. "It takes place in Japan, which should interest you. Back in the last years of isolationism, there was a pro-shogunate faction of warriors opposed to the West called the Shinsengumi. You've probably heard of them in history class..."

The three girls leaned in close for maximum effect, already engrossed in the story...

* * *

Albireo stood stiffly, his back straight and proper under the elaborate kimono he wore. He let a small smile grace his heavily made-up face and felt white powder crack. Landing a job at Shimabara had been extraordinarily unusual for him _and_ the rest of Japan, as he was one of the few _taikomochi_, a male geisha, alive. He was also the only geisha at Shimabara, as most men came seeking prostitution and not entertainment.

"Albireo?"

He perked his head up slightly. He rarely gave his real name to people, but to the geisha it would've felt wrong otherwise. Not only was he a rare male geisha, he was the only Caucasian geisha. It had been an unexpected turn of events for him to be chosen for this job, but he had fully embraced it. Anything new was welcome to him.

"There's a man who wants to see a geisha."

"Hmm. What's he like?" His voice, usually a deep baritone, was lighter and higher than usual. He looked and sounded, to all appearances, like a woman.

"Handsome. A samurai."

"Choshu or Shinsengumi?"

"Shinsengumi."

"I suppose I'll see him."

Albireo, whose kimono was stiff and unwelcome to movement, waited for his visitor in a small room adjacent to the main room. He wasn't kept waiting, and his visitor entered the room, bowing as he entered.

The man was slight, shorter than Albireo, with dark hair tied back. He was dressed in the traditional Shinsengumi wear, a blue coat with a ragged white edge. He had two swords visible over his hakama, and wore a small smile the way Albireo would.

"Greetings, Al-sama," said the stranger evenly. "I was directed here by the mistress of this house."

"Greetings, replied Al. "You requested a geisha?"

"I asked to meet the geisha of this house, as I heard she was very unusual. You are very beautiful, but I do not see what's so strange about you."

Al smirked. "Thank you for the compliment. However, I am not the woman you seem to think me."

"Oh, really?" asked the Shinsensumi soldier.

"No. You see, I'm here to entertain women and men of a certain...leaning."

The man's eyebrows rose. "Are you saying that you're a man?"

"That is what I'm saying, yes."

"I'm not sure I quite believe you," said the man, laughing. "My name is Okita Souji. You're Al-sama?"

"Albireo," corrected Al. "Albireo Imma...sama, if you must."

"That's quite an unusual name."

"Did I forget to mention? I'm also a foreigner." Albireo waited for Okita's reaction. His hand edged toward his sword slightly, but he otherwise did not move.

"A foreigner? Really?"

"Yes. I'm very selfish, though. I'm all for isolationism, as long as I can still stay here."

Okita laughed again. "I understand now. You're very strange."

"I never denied it."

Albireo watched Okita curiously. "What would you have me do? Would you like a dance?"

"A dance...I'm not sure I'm in the mood." Okita approached Al quickly and hovered over Al, whose whimsical expression did not change.

"Tread carefully," said Al lightly. "A geisha is not always a prostitute. I will not take your money for sex."

"I did not pay to see you. I tried, but the woman who directed me here said that if you liked me, it wouldn't be necessary." replied Okita.

"Correct. I don't charge anyone I'm attracted to." smirked Al. With that straightforward line, Okita couldn't help himself and kissed Al on the lips.

"Just making sure you're a man." explained Okita, winking.

Al's smile lingered. "There's no need for you to do that if you want to check."

They shared a long look. Albireo knew he rivaled the most beautiful women in Japan when he wore this kimono and make-up, and he wondered what Okita would do.

Okita brought his hand around Al's neck, pressing his calloused fingers against his smooth, delicate neck. Al kissed him back, and Okita knew that he was being roped into something he wasn't necessarily prepared to deal with. But with Albireo's warm lips on his, he didn't really care.

When he woke up the next morning, Al felt the tingle that could only mean one thing- he was sick. He closed his eyes to concentrate and identify the source within him and found it- the very, very earliest stages of tuberculosis. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. While _his _body would fight it off with the impeccable perfection of a man who could not die (most accurately, one who could not stay dead), Okita wasn't so lucky. Al must've contracted it from him the night before. A deep sadness settled itself in his stomach. Not only was death, not matter how many times he had experienced it, sad, but he had rather liked Okita.

Okita was still there, and was awake, lying next to him. He smiled when he saw that Al was awake.

"Breakfast is outside the door."

Al rose gracefully, using the blanket to over himself as he reached for the food. His hair, while mussed, draped around him, and he would be lying if he said it didn't make him more attractive. His pale skin shone with long-dried sweat, and his eyes held the secrets of their actions the night before.

"Are you really a foreigner?" asked Okita, sipping tea and gorging himself on rice. "You speak perfect Japanese."

Al smiled at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "When I was human, I was born in Gallia."

"Gallia? When you were human?" Al loved the Japanese because they were so willing to accept that a man might not be all he seems and wouldn't burn him at the stake for that.

"Ah...I'm old. France."

"I'm waiting for the explanation about the human bit." said Okita, pulling a yukata over himself, hiding his lean body hard with muscles.

"Would you believe me if I said I was a youkai?" smirked Al, currently laying on his side, his head propped up by his slender hand.

Okita kissed him, examining him as he did so, his eyes searching his face for something unbeknownst to Al. "I think I would."

"Okita-san..."

"Call me Okita."

"Okita, I think you need to see a doctor."

Okita's expression became guarded. "Do you...have something? Is there something you should've told me?"

"This isn't about me, but you. You feel sick sometimes, don't you?"

Okita pursed his lips. "I don't have time to feel sick. If you haven't noticed, we're fighting a revolution."

"A revolution that you'd apparently rather not see the end of?" smirked Al.

Okita sighed. "Maybe I'll get check out. I think it's just fatigue...how did you know?"

"A youkai knows many things." chuckled Al.

And as their eyes met one last time, Okita knew that he would not forget the foreign youkai with the eyes of a human.

* * *

"How romantic..." sighed Konoka.

"Wait, you were on the shogun's side?" asked Chisame.

"Not at all. I lied to him. I thought Japan needed to embrace the Western world if it wanted to survive. In the end, it did."

"That's so mean!" pouted Konoka, who still had a little smile on her face that appeared whenever someone accounted tales of their sexual endeavors.

"I think Okita knew that," continued Al. "He just wanted a good...hmm..." He wasn't really sure how to put in in appropriate terms for junior high students. "...friend for the night."

"Did you ever meet him again?" asked Asuna.

"Once more, on his deathbed."

"What'd you do then?"

Al thought back. Okita, who'd stopped having sex in fear of giving tuberculosous to anyone, had been very sexually frustrated. He had spent a few hours just trying to both please Okita and to help ease the suffering as he'd died. Okita had died cracking jokes and in general good humor, his only regret not being able to fight with his men in their last battle. He had been a true warrior to the end.

"Oh, you know...this and that..."

"Have luck trying to get a straight answer out of him..." huffed Chisame.

"Thank you for telling us these stories." said Konoka, bowing slightly. She was by far the nicest and most polite out of the three of them.

"More to come, right?" said Asuna hopefully.

"As long as you're willing to listen." promised Al.

"Good." replied Asuna happily. Chisame grudingly admitted her interest in the stiories, and Konoka shrilly declared her happiness. Then they left, leaving an old man to his memories.

* * *

Tell me what you thought! :)


	4. 544 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

Hi! Much quicker update, if anyone's still reading. I like this chapter considerably more than the last, which I've edited so it's now so awful anymore. If you don't know who Filius Zecht is, I'm not entierely sure how you can know who Albireo Imma is (except through the Budokai), because they were both in Ala Rubra. I think this makes sense either way.

I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. :)

* * *

"Welcome, ladies." greeted Al.

"You better have a good story for us today. Yesterday's was weird and random," complained Chisame. "One day you were talking about truck driving in America and the next you were a geisha. There has to be a connection, a interlacing plot. Otherwise it's just weird."

"Hmm...what would you like to hear?"

Asuna thought about it. "Have you always been so calm and com...comn...what's the word?"

"Composed?" finished Konoka.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Have I? No, there was a time when I was a very different man, one I'm not very proud of. Of course, one must always come to the realization that you are being foolish."

"Can we hear that story?" asked Konoka eagerly.

"If you really want to. This was quite a long time ago, though, it may take me a moment to remember...let's see...It was a little town, dirty and slowly sinking into the sea due due to lack of sewer and drainage...on the coast of Italy. I believe it's now called Venice."

Chisame couldn't help mumble something condescending, but her eyes were trained firmly on Al's teacup, listening to every word.

* * *

Al slowly whittled the piece of wood with a rough knife he had found. He grazed his skin again, causing his hand to bleed for what felt like the twentieth time. Who knows, it probably was. His blurry eyes weren't really trained on the wood or the lank hair in his eyes or even the ground in front of him. He wasn't thinking, because if he did it would mean remembering that he wasn't dead, that last month had marked the thirty-eighth time he'd attempted suicide.

He could hear people passing him in the street, but he didn't care. He never spent any time with people now. It was too depressing, looking at someone and knowing that they would be dead before Al had even noticed. Even in the throes of passion he would look at whatever person he was with and see only the age and death approaching them.

He hated civilization, but he had stumbled upon this town and had had no reason to leave, no reason to go anywhere. He was just as filthy as they rest of them, his clothes ragged and pieced together, his hair matted and stiff. His hands and face were caked with dirt and probably blood, he just hadn't checked lately. He sat there and whittled away the wood until all he was cutting were the tips of his fingers and a small sliver that would only be suitable as a toothpick.

His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. He didn't need to eat anymore. Sure, it was painful, but wasn't everything?

He felt someone kick his leg. He glanced up with bloodshot eyes to see a young boy, maybe ten or eleven, looking at him with a blank face. Something was different about this boy, something Al couldn't quite place. He blinked blearily, and the boy kicked him again. Then it clicked. This boy was _clean_. His face was washed, and his white hair was glossy with the result of painstaking care. His clothes, while not extravagant, were stitched well and carefully, and his shoes were closed on the top and impervious to the dirt and dust of the road.

"What do you want?" Al spoke in Latin, his first language, before he realized this boy wouldn't understand him. He switched to a dialect of Italian that was specific to Venice and repeated the question.

"You're a very pathetic creature." said the boy in Latin. This was surprising, but not unduly so. Albireo looked for another stick to whittle.

"How old are you?"

"I don't know." It was a common enough answer.

"Humph." said the boy condescendingly. "I can tell. Would you like some dinner?"

Albireo looked up in surprise. Kindness, however misdirected, was a very rare commodity. "Why?"

"Because you've lived a long time and you're on the brink of something you cannot return from."

Al shrugged noncommittally. "I like food."

The boy, showing deceptive strength, pulled him up. Al staggered a little. He hadn't moved in hours, maybe days. He couldn't really tell anymore.

The boy's home was a small house on the edge of some woods, not even close to town. It was built of wood and expertly crafted, but Al didn't see any adults in sight. He didn't really care. He'd learned long ago that you should never judge a book by its cover.

Apparently the boy hadn't just meant dinner, because when they entered the cabin the boy pointed at a large tub and said harshly, "Wash."

"What?"

"Are you hard of hearing? You're filthy. Go and wash."

Al dipped his fingers in the tub and was surprised to feel scalding hot water. He had known many humans who had bathed, back when he'd first been born, like Cleopatra and the majority of Egyptians. Of course, things that were good for you never seemed to last, and humanity had quickly returned to the practice of not being clean. He vaguely heard the boy sigh.

"Are you going to take your clothes off or do I have to?"

Al strangely felt embarrassed as he disposed of his clothing. Normally he wouldn't have felt the slightest bit of shame, but this boy's piercing gaze made him uncomfortable. The rest of his body was just as dirty as his face, and he climbed into the tub awkwardly, his tired and sore muscles protesting.

He scratched at the dirt caked on him halfheartedly, and the boy shoved his head down a little. "Honestly," he huffed. "Some people can be so helpless. Use this." He dropped a bar of lye soap into the tub, and some feral part of Al embraced the idea of being clean, and Al scrubbed at himself with a fury he didn't know he still had left in him.

The boy turned to the fire, which had a large kettle over it. Al could smell the food from there, and his stomach roared to life. He returned to unsuccessfully washing the grime off himself.

The boy sighed again. "You're pathetic." He grabbed the soap and brutally scrubbed Al's back and neck until his skin was raw, and forced Al to do the same. He attempted it with his hair, but it was as stiff and unyielding as before. Now that he was clean, he could feel the digustingness of his hair.

The boy returned with scissors, the first pair of decent scissors he'd seen since Egypt. "It'd be best if you'd cut your hair, but I suppose if you're really attached..."

"Hair grows back." said Al hoarsely.

"Finally a sensible sentence out of you." grumbled the boy, taking the scissors to Al's head and cutting his hair practically to the scalp. He swept the hair out of the house to the back. Al couldn't blame him, it had been gross and probably was crawling with insects.

"Now finish up and I'll get dinner. There are clothes on the chair."

Al didn't mind being ordered around. It had been years, decades, since anyone had even noticed him. He'd spent the last few centuries wandering around the wilderness, keeping away from people, hoping that when he re-emerged the world would be drastically different. It hadn't changed at all, plunging Al into an even deeper depression.

He pulled on the clothes, surprised but pleased to see that they were clean and warm, and the fabric wasn't rough.

"Dinner." said the boy. His voice always seemed to be glum for some reason, always in a state of perpetual gloom.

Al quietly say at a wooden table, filling an earthen bowl full of stew. It was the best stew he'd ever had, full of flavor. He could tell it was fresh meat, unspoiled by days left out. Humans didn't know how to cook like this.

"I've had a long time to learn how to cook," said the boy. "I'm much older than you probably think."

"What...What's going on?"

"My name is Zecht. Call me Filius. How about you?"

Al drank his stew greedily. "My name's Al."

"Just Al? When a man has lived long enough he gets many names."

"Al..bireo," said Al, saying the syllables of his name for the first time in years. "Albireo Imma."

"Latin, as I thought. Where were you born?"

"Do you...actually care?" Humans always had their own interests at heart, and they didn't care to hear another man's story.

"Every man needs to tell their life to."

"Yes, but do you _care_?"

Filius examined him with his grave, serious eyes. "A little. Enough for you to tell me."

"I was born in Gallia...France, I think they've started calling it?"

"Refer to it however you want," shrugged Filius. "Names come and go."

"We were some of the first to be conquered by the Romans, so I was raised speaking a combination of Latin and Celtic."

"About seven hundred years ago, correct?"

Al stared at a lump of venison in his stew. "I guess it was that long ago."

"Years pass by fast. Would you like to hear about me? I'm warning you, this may be the only time you ever here my speak about my past."

"Okay."

"I'm about three hundred years older than you. I'm a demon from the North, and I helped create Mundus Magica about two hundred years ago."

"Mundus Magica?"

Filius showed a flicker of surprise in his otherwise emotionless face. "You've been alive this long and haven't stumbled across the Magic World?"

"Are there a lot of magic users out there?"

Filius chuckled. "You really don't know much, do you. I suppose you've just been wandering Earth looking for death so far, right?"

"...Yeah."

"That's how most of are in the beginning. That is, if we have any sense of decency in us. Repelling a power that the rest of the world longs for is a human's destiny."

"I thought you were a demon?"

Filius shrugged, ladling himself some more soup. "Not always. I was human too. I still think I am. Humanity is a concept that is not confined to two-legged men. I think all sentient beings possess humanity. To meet a sentient being without humanity is a terrifying and unimaginable thing."

"That makes sense."

"You're smarter than you're letting on. Don't be shy, I've spent much too long around idiots in my life."

"When I was in the Library..." mumbled Al. "I read about a lot of things. It leads me to think that you're right."

"Hmm..." pondered Filius. "If this is the same Library I'm thinking of...how did you get from Gallia to Egypt?"

"I was a stupid child." confessed Al, the barest hint of a smile. If Filius Zecht smiled in response, it would've been even harder to see.

Al finished his stew, looking at his hands. "My hands...they hurt."

"You've noticed?" snorted Filius. "I thought you would've died from blood loss if you could've. What did you do, try to skin a porcupine?"

"I was whittling."

"You suck at it." replied Filius honestly.

"Yeah..."

Filius retrieved a roll of bandages from a hole in the wall (an invention that would later be known as the modern closet) and bandaged Al's hands none too gently.

"Ow," complained Al. "You're not very good at this."

Filius didn't seem to care. "I've always thought that a little pain wakes you up. What do you think?"

Al met the young boy's eyes. "I think you're right."

* * *

"Hey...isn't Filius Zecht one of Negi's dad's friends? He was in Rakan-san's flashback movie..." wondered Asuna.

"Yes, he is." said Al pleasantly.

Konoka clapped. "Wow! did that really happen? Are you really that old?"

Chisame awarded Al a grudging smile. "That one was pretty decent."

Asuna yawned. "Man, I'm tired...ah, I didn't fall asleep or anything, I just didn't really get enough sleep last night..."

"That's perfectly all right," chuckled Al. "I practically fell asleep myself."

"How? It was good!" protested Chisame, to her own chagrin.

"Yes, well, I've lived it, you see. That automatically makes it less interesting. Besides, I thought people didn't like hearing old stories...I should probably stop telling these to you."

"No!" protested the three girls in unison.

"I love your stories!" chimed in Konoka. "Even the samurai one!"

"That one was weird..." grumbled Chisame, unwilling to admit that she'd role-played a geisha to another user's samurai online.

"I suppose I could tell you more..."

The girls cheered, and Al raised his teacup in acknowledgment. Being junior high school girls, they had soemwhere to be, and Al drank the dredges of his tea in peace, wondering why on earth he was still telling them his stories. In a hundred years he would once again be the only one who remembered him.

* * *

What did you think? Filius Zecht is one of my favorite characters. Reviews are love!


	5. 1692 Anno Domini

Dsiclaiemr- I don't own Negima.

I'm not sure about this chapter...I don't like it much. i promise next chapter will be better! Thank you for reading, and thank you for reviewing, you wonderful one person. Yuo know who you are. :)

Anyway, enjoy...hopefully. :)

* * *

"I want another story about America." announced Asuna.

"Glad to see you haven't become demanding." smirked Al, sitting in his usual position. He wiped his forehead free of sweat. He hadn't had a very pleasant morning. The side effects from leaving his home for that battle against Fate seemed to had caught up with him, and he'd spent most of the morning vomiting.

"America's the land of romance." agreed Konoka.

"And commercialism." snarked Chisame.

"When was the first time you went over there?"

"1492." replied Al swiftly.

"With Columbus?" replied Chisame, understandably surprised.

"Yes, but you wouldn't want to hear about that. It a tale full of hairy old men. What about a tale with a lady in it?"

"Yes!" chimed Konoka, and Chisame and Asuna joined in.

"Fine, fine, all in good time...let me see...it was 1692, in Salem, Massachusetts. I Was under an assumed name, as I tend to do..."

* * *

"John? John, where are you?"

Al stood up from the garden he was tending. "Oh, hello, Liz."

Elizabeth frowned at him. "Don't let people hear you call me that. It's unbecoming."

"That's all this place is," sighed Al. "Rules and regulations."

Elizabeth smacked him lightly on the arm. "And _especially _don't let people hear you say that. Honestly, I really think you want to end up in prison."

"I wasn't born here, you know that. I'm not quite used to all this."

"Like I could forget that you're an _English_ man," replied Elizabeth haughtily. "_And _you've been married before."

"Yes, well, so have you." Al bent back down and continued weeding the garden. Elizabeth sat next to him, holding up her skirts.

"John, I came to tell you about some news I heard up at the village."

"Gossiping again?" hummed Al.

Elizabeth blushed. "Not really. They say girls have been rolling around, muttering curses and claiming the devil's involved. They say they're witches."

"Witches?" replied Al, slightly alarmed. He knew peoples' aversion to witchcraft and hated anything to do with it. He always generally felt guilty just by being in the area, since he was about the closest thing you could get to a witch.

"Abigail Williams has been spreading rumors." said Elizabeth unhappily.

"Abigail Williams? Isn't she around eleven years old?"

Elizabeth looked sheepish. "Yes, well..."

Al smiled, a genuine smile that he only gave to close family members, spouses, and people that he'd known for more than two hundred years. "Eleven year old girls will be foolish. Don't worry yourself. I'll always be here to protect you."

"My big strong husband," replied Elizabeth softly. She'd originally said that as a joke, as Al's physique was noticeably weaker than their neighbors, but as he'd proved his strength and cunning she'd come to mean it.

"Where's William and Sarah?"

"Off with his friends. I swear, one of these days they're going to kill me with worry, always going off into the forest and playing in streams...there could be Indians!"

"Don't be silly, Indians haven't been seen around here for fifty years."

"But they could always come back..."

Al stood up and brushed off his hands. "I doubt it." He'd made a pact with the Indians that they'd stay away from this area for around one hundred years if he'd come and work as a medicine man for an equal amount of time afterwards. He'd say it was a sacrifice for love, but he had a genuine fondness for the Indian Nations and had no qualms about living with them.

"Dinner's almost ready."

"The children really should be back by now..." he mused.

"You're the one who doesn't like to punish them." replied Elizabeth, her tone betraying only the slightest hint of accusation.

Al put his hands up in defense. "I find no point in needlessly beating a child." Physical punishment was something he'd experienced in excess amount as a child, and he was not compelled to replicate the experience for anyone else.

"That's something I love about you." sighed Elizabeth, heading back inside their log cabin.

Al smiled demurely. He'd cast an aging spell on himself when he'd gotten married to Elizabeth to conceal his immortality. He loved her, and maybe he was fickle for doing so, but he was going to spend the rest of her life with her if he could, even if it meant temporarily gaining a few wrinkles. He followed his wife into the cabin, where he helped her finish dinner.

They only heard rumors of witches for the next month or some, and Al believed it should all die down. That was, until his servant girl accused him of strangling her and Abigail Williams claimed that both he and his wife were witches.

Sometimes he hated humanity.

Things were not helped when his two sons from his first two marriages (as John Proctor), Benjamin and Thorndike, came to town for Market Day (which was exactly what it sounded like). He loved his sons, but both of them were over forty years old and he couldn't pass for over thirty-five, even with the aging spell. Benjamin ended up asking, in a public place, why he still looked so young. He hadn't meant any harm by it, but others had heard and the rumors had started flying. The results were becoming disastrous, and Al was very close to being arrested. Worse, Elizabeth was too. Normally, Al would leave town and settle down somewhere else as soon as possible, but he had a family to think of.

He was walking down Main Street pondering his dilemma when he bumped into a young girl. He glanced down and recognized her as Abigail Williams. She stared at him with big round eyes, and Al smiled at her.

"Are you on your way somewhere?" he asked kindly. Maybe she was responsible for potentially putting him in prison, but Al never blamed children as young as her for things like this. Someone was putting her up to it.

She shook her head wildly. "You're a witch." she whispered, terrified. She ran away from him, leaving him standing in the street with gossiping neighbors all around him. He ignored them and walked into the butcher's shop proudly. He'd experienced persecution worse than this before.

The butcher seemed angrier than usual, and he slammed Al's meat on the table unnecessarily hard. He was greeted with frosty glares wherever he went, and people spoke in whispers around him. This was _not_ good.

When he returned home, Elizabeth was cleaning up the house. Elizabeth's pretty features were drawn, and when she saw Al she breathed a sign of relief. She clutched the rag she was holding tightly, and Al suppressed the urge to run to her. He was far more sentimental than his wife.

"The clergy came by," she said, her voice taut. "They said that we're under arrest for practicing witchcraft. They'll be back in an hour to collect us. I sent William and Sarah to my mother's."

"An hour?" he asked, he asked, his mind whirling. That didn't leave him much time.

"Yes, an hour." she said, her voice cracking.

He had to get moving then if he wanted this to work. turning his back to his wife, he pretended to be distressed while he actually muttered a fertility spell under his breath. If he was going to be arrested of something, he'd better be guilty, damn it.

"I have to protect you." he said calmly.

"What? John, what about you?"

He smiled slightly. "I'm the man, aren't I? I have a family to support. I don't technically have anything to leave you, but if you go two miles south and dig under the oak tree where we met you'll find a little money I put there in case of emergency."

She bit her lip. "What're you planning?"

He crossed the room quickly and kissed her fully on the lips. "We don't have much time."

"Time for what?" she whispered, suppressing tears.

He grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom, where he proceeded to do the only thing he could. the trials would last a long time, and if he could make it so his wife was incapable of being hung he could save her. He was going to be convicted, he could tell. After you'd lived long enough you could tell when your time was up. He'd escape and run to the Indians, who'd be glad to have him fifty years ahead of schedule. First, though, he needed to protect his wife, and this was the best way to do that. A court never killed a pregnant woman.

* * *

Elizabeth's normally reserved face was on the verge of tears yet again. Albireo hated that she had to go through all these trials because of him. He hated that their time together had been cut short, and that he'd never be able to spend time with her or his children again. He saw his adult children, Ben and Thorndike, in the audience, along with William and Sarah, there wide eyes round with fear. He was glad his unborn child couldn't see this from the womb, although he was sure it could feel it's mother's pain.

He mouthed three words to his wife, the last words she'd ever hear him speak. 'I love you.' Then the noose was tightened around his neck, and the floor dropped beneath him. The last thing his family ever saw of him was the small smile that graced his lips.

He hated being hanged. It hurt like hell, and his neck would be sore for months. The scar was very visible and very unbecoming, and he'd have it for at least thirty years before his body could catch up and erase it. Worst of all, he hated being buried. Being buried alive was much worse than being hung. He couldn't move or breath or open his eyes, he couldn't even cry. And who would blame him for crying? He would never get to see his son.

He eventually dug himself out of his shallow grave, hoping that there was no one to see. He wrapped some cloth around his raw, bleeding neck and limped off towards the woods where the Indians he'd met with would be waiting. Another chapter of his life had closed. He was no longer John Proctor, but Albireo Imma once again, a medicine man for the Indians.

He considered himself a brave man, and this ordeal cemented that belief. A lesser man would've bawled his eyes out, but he only cried a little.

* * *

Konoka sniffled. "That's so sad! Did you ever see your wife again?"

"No. I kept an eye on her from afar, though. Our family ended up populating the majority of the state of Massachusetts." replied Al smoothly.

"Wow," commented Chisame dryly. "You were a player, weren't you? Three wives in one lifetime?"

Al sipped the dredges of his tea smugly. "Chisame-san, one in ten people in the world are related to me, and nine in ten Egyptians are my direct descendants. Even Genghis Khan doesn't have that kind of record."

Chisame crossed her arms. "Sure they are. Nice story and all, but I'm going to get back to reality."

"Reality's a relative thing." chirped Konoka.

"Oh, shut up." grumbled Chisame.

Asuna slung her arm around Chisame's. "Be nice." she teased, drawing out the syllables, and Chisame swatted her.

"Go to hell."

Asuna ignored her. "Thanks for the story, Colonel-san. I'm confused, though. Are you gay or what?"

Al shrugged noncommittally. "I don't have any definite preference."

"Sexually ambiguous." commented Konoka.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," mumbled Chisame, annoyed. "We'll be back tomorrow."

Al raised his teacup in a mock salute. "Until tomorrow."

Oddly, all three girls simultaneously saluted back without hesitation.

* * *

I changed a few facts about John Proctor's past, like his family because history vcan get things wrong sometimes, especially if a mage is involved. XD What did you think? Reviews are love! :)


	6. 1557 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

It's kinda short, but I enjoyed writing it. Now read, all you hordes of people that read this (sarcasm mode)!

Also, I'd like you to know how much I'd like to shoot Akamatsu in the brain right now. He, using literally two line of dialouge, made my canon-fetish a hell of a lot harder to please. If he's going to allude to something, couldn't he spend twnety seconds to tell us what it _means_? Argh, I love him for creating Al and hate him for the hell he has inflicted upon my soul.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

"Hey, Colonel-han?" asked Konoka sweetly.

"Yes?"

"How did you meet Evangeline?"

Al chuckled. "That's a funny story."

There was a pause as all three girls leaned in, and Al blinked. "Oh, you want to _tell_ it?"

"Yes!" shouted Asuna, exasperated.

"You're all so demanding..." sighed Al, and Chisame growled.

"All right, all right!" Al conceded. "It was in Ostia, back in...oh, what century was it now...the 1500s, that's right. The Dark Evangel's fame was steadily growing, and I, to my chagrin, was rather well-known as a bounty hunter around that time..."

* * *

Albireo had only taken the job for one reason, and that was to meet the Dark Evangel. Well, two reasons- to see if it was possible to push her buttons, because if it was, he would have to pat himself on the back for bringing himself to a whole new level of irritability.

Ostia was a beautiful, wild, country, and one he frequented because of its sophistication and advances in technology combined with its elegance and gorgeous scenery. The floating rocks were absolutely breathtaking. The Old World was currently stuck in a depressing torrent of wars and battles and famines, and Al really wanted nothing more than to stay away from all them. The Magic World was just getting settled, and Al loved to watch the process.

Recently it seemed a vampire had moved in, and a really unsubtle one at that. It soon became apparent that it was the Dark Evangel herself, and Al couldn't help but want to meet her. A fellow immortal was always a welcome sight, and he was prepare to take her under his wing in the same way Filius had done for him. He was smart enough to know that it probably wouldn't end up that well and was also fine with that.

He tracked her to a small, remote island that floated way beyond the sights of any Ostian official and set up a tea table and two chairs, along with a full tea set. He seated himself at it and poured two cups of tea, sipping at his. Then he waited.

He didn't have to wait long. Before the tea had even gone cold a sound like a typhoon started emanating from the depths of the forest, and he smirked. Seconds later, a young girl with long blonde hair appeared in front of him.

"How dare a human trespass on my territory? I thought I made it clear not to come here? Are Ostian officials really that dumb?"

"I don't know about that, but I personally don't believe myself to be dim," he replied, giving the girl the first of many, many, small smiles she would receive over the next five centuries. "Why don't you sit down for some tea?"

"Ostia has disgusting tea," she sneered. "Why would I want any of that crap?"

"It's French." he said enticingly.

She stuck her nose up at it, but looked tempted. "Aren't you afraid that I'll bite you, human?"

"I may not be a vampire like yourself, but I am not human," he said quite clearly. "If you call me so again it will be error on your part, not mine."

She obligingly slid into a seat across from him. "I like tea." she grumbled.

"I knew you would."

She bristled. "Excuse me? You don't know anything about me!"

"You're French. The French automatically like tea. It's in the blood."

"And how would you know that?"

"I'm French myself."

"I don't believe you."

"Do you believe anything anyone ever tells you? I get the impression that you're not a very trusting woman."

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the use of the term 'woman', not girl. Albireo knew who he was talking to. She made a face at him and crossed her arms.

"What do you want with me?"

"Simply to talk to you. What's your real name?"

"Excuse me?" she snarled.

"I rather dislike not knowing others' names. My hobby is collecting others' lives, you see, and how can I do that without even knowing their names? I'm rather sick of referring to you as the Dark Evangel."

"It's none of your business," she muttered. "Besides, I don't know _your_ name. It's hardly a fair trade."

Al noted that her accent was more British than French. Had she recently spend some time in England? She was probably being hunted in France. Albireo had rarely known the feeling of being hunted, but a life on the run was not a pleasant one.

"My name is Albireo Imma."

She snorted. "That's the most ridiculous name I've ever heard. Seriously, were your parents dumb?"

"Ah, but they didn't name me." he replied cheerily.

"What, you named _yourself_ that? How dumb are you?"

"I told you, I may be many things, but dumb is not one of them," he chuckled. "I did not name myself."

"Then who named you?"

"It's not important."

She stuck out her lip. "My name is Evangeline A.K. McDowell."

"I knew it."

"_Excuse me?_"

"The Dark Evangel? Evangeline? French? It all seemed too coincidental to me," he grinned, successfully pissing her off. Pushing her buttons was getting to be great fun. "You should give yourself a more clever nickname. A less obvious one at the very least."

"Well, I bet you didn't know my middle names are Anastasia Katherine, huh?" she growled.

He smiled.

She swore. She felt like she would royally regret letting him know her full name. She was right.

"Katherine...how pretty. Almost sound like...Kitty. What a cute little Kitty you are."

Her face was apoplectic with rage. "How dare you? I could kill you with one blow!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are very presumptuous. You only know my name, but you presume to know my power level? For such a young lady, you're quite rude."

She launched herself at him, sinking her fangs into his neck. He obliged, having himself a good laugh.

"Ha," she proclaimed. "You're my slave now."

"That was mildly uncomfortable," he observed. "You're rather awful at giving hickeys." He waved his hand over the wound, a spark of magic erasing the bite marks. Her jaw dropped comically.

"You really are young," he sighed, sipping his tea. "I suppose you just don't know better."

"You patronizing bastard!" she roared. "You can't possibly understand my pain! I'm far older than you could hope to live, you-"

"No."

She blinked. "What?"

"_No. _You are not far older than me," His tone took on a seriousness he usually avoided. "I am far older than you. As a man who has lived for over one thousand years, I find you to have one fraction of my knowledge and strength. It is not boasting, it is fact. You act like you are the highest being out there, but I know a man several hundred years older than myself. Compared to the Earth itself, we are all young. You need to stop being so silly."

Eva looked rebellious. "You don't know anything about me."

He felt his neck. "What if I had been human? What if I had been a nice young man who was only trying to support his family by being a bounty hunter? Would you have ruined my life so easily?"

"A vampire _has_ to kill to survive." she said surlily.

"Don't avert your eyes from death. Look straight ahead. Look squarely at the people you're killing. And don't forget them. _Never_...forget them. Because _they_ won't forget _you._"

Evangeline didn't say anything. She didn't have anything she could possible say as a response to that, so she just stared at her tea.

"Oh!" he said, surprised. "I'm already out of tea. We must've drunk more than I thought. Maybe I didn't bring very much. That's odd, I could've sworn I brought more...I'm afraid I must be going."

"Whatever," she muttered moodily. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I told you, I'm Albireo Imma. An immortal like yourself."

"You're stupid."

He snapped his fingers, and his table and chairs disappeared, making Eva shriek as he seat vanished and she fell to the ground.

"You jerk!"

"I am what I am."

He began to walk away, but stopped. "Oh, one more thing."

"_What?"_"

"I stole the panties you were wearing."

"YOU PERVERT!"

And he vanished. He would not see Evangeline A.K. McDowell for a long time, but he hoped his words would help her as she wrestled with herself. Yes, it would be a long time before they met again...

Or at least he hoped so, because she was probably ready to kill him.

* * *

The end of his story was met with silence.

"_That_ was how you met Eva?" said Asuna, as if she were trying to see if he was lying.

"Yes. Was it not what you expected?"

"I expected more violence. Didn't she used to be more...evil?"

Al shrugged. "I believe she could sense in some way that I was powerful. You don't mess with those who are your superior, especially not in those times. Back then, if you so much as looked at a mage as powerful as either myself or Eva you could be killed as an example."

"You never did anything like that, did you?" asked Konoka, unnerved.

"No, not to my knowledge. I cannot speak for Eva, however. She was a different person back then, and not much of a pleasure to know."

"She's not much of a pleasure to know now, either," muttered Chisame.

"Has she killed you?" asked Al.

Chisame didn't answer.

"She's nicer, trust me," added Al. "I'm being completely serious when I say she's killed me more than once."

"What?" asked Asuna, confused.

"Never mind. The point is, Eva's a better person, and your class is almost certainly the cause. I thank you for being able to accomplish what I never could."

"That's probably because you were too busy teasing her," said Chisame honestly.

Al chuckled. "It looks like way, doesn't it?"

"I'm sick of being confused," announced Asuna. "And it's getting late. C'mon, girls, lets go."

"I'm not one of your girls." grumbled Chisame, but she obligingly followed Konoka and Asuna out of the room and down the long hallway to leave Al's home.

Al picked up a book to get his mind off things. He was thinking about the past more than usual lately, but he'd caused it entirely, so he couldn't complain. Still...after they left, thinking about the old days was a lot lonelier.

* * *

Reviews are love! :)


	7. 1926 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

I actually liek this chapter. I don't have anything else to say, as I don't have many readers and have had no reviews, so...

Enjoy! :)

* * *

"Could you tell us a love story?" asked Konoka hopefully.

Al laughed. "I thought I already did."

Chisame rolled her eyes. "Your idea of a love story is severely warped. Don't you know they're supposed to have happy endings?"

Al had already decided which story to tell, and this request fit nicely. "I have one that ends with everyone still alive, if that meets your criteria. I think you'll like this story. It hits a little closer to home than you'll think."

"Sure," compromised Chisame. "Why not?"

Asuna rushed in late. "Did I miss anything? Please tell me I didn't!"

"Do we really have nothing better to occupy our days with?" muttered Chisame, knowing full well it was a rhetorical question.

"You're just in time." replied Al. "Now, this story takes place in Japan in the early twenties...bad things were happening in Manchuria, and the Japanese people were just beginning to adjust to the drastic changes made in their lives..."

* * *

Al drank out of his mug of coffee, keeping his eyes on the bar in front of him. There was nothing more surreal than listening to American music with a few Brits in a Japanese bar. He was dressed in a three piece suit reminiscent of the 1890s, complete with pocket-watch. He always made a point to be at least thirty years behind current fashion, subsequently causing to attract odd stares wherever he went (this didn't work in the Magic World, where robes and skimpy clothing were always in fashion).

He was listening to the slightly out of tune saxophone player when a young woman plopped into the seat across from him. She was wearing a very bizarre mixture of a yukata with a casual dress shirt thrown over it, and her greenish-black hair was disheveled, two long strands of hair poking out in very noticeable antennae. She were thick black glasses, and had a drawing pad in her arms.

"Hello," she said brightly. "Sorry for the intrusion, but could I sit here?"

He sipped his coffee and smiled his classic smile. "Of course. It's not every day I get a pretty young lady barging in on me."

"Really? That's surprising. You're handsome." This woman was unusually blunt for a Japanese woman. He wouldn't be surprised if she had spent her entire childhood being chastised for it. She winked at him.

"Do you think I could draw you? I'm trying to do an illustration for a drawing magazine I really like. I like drawing androgynous men, and you're the most girly guy I've seen all year."

"Thank you," replied Al, flattered. "Feel free."

"What's you name?" asked the woman. "I'd like to know, but you don't have to tell me."

"Al."

"Oooh la la, foreign," snickered the woman. "But that's obvious just by looking at you. What's it short for, Alphonse, Albert?" Her Japanese accent was thick on the English words, and it was endearing to Al, almost cute.

"Albireo. Albireo Imma."

"That's totally weird. And cool. Weird and cool, just like you. I'm Suzuki Saotome, a starving artist."

"It's nice to meet you, Saotome-san."

"Call be Suzuki. It's less troublesome that way."

"All right then, call me Al."

"I'm glad you said that, since that's what I was going to call you either way. What brings you to Japan?" she asked, starting her sketch.

"I like to travel. I haven't been in this part of the world for some time, so I decided to visit."

"Must be nice being rich." she said casually.

"I paid very dearly for the luxuries I have in life," he chuckled. "Being miserable in comfort, I suppose you would say."

She patted his cheek, which was so incredibly rude that he almost liked it. "Aw, poor little Al, all alone in his penthouse suite."

"I don't have a penthouse suite." he protested weakly.

"Mind sharing some of your riches with me?"

"It's dirty money, I doubt you'd want it." he admitted. It was true- he'd acquired his fortune through prostitution, shady business deals, murder, and fortune-telling. Most of this had been done centuries ago, and he'd always been smart enough to transfer his funds into the newest big currency before the last one became defunct.

Suzuki cackled. "Any money is fine with me, I don't care if it's the zaibatsu's. I wouldn't even care if it came from the hands of Satan himself, I'd take it."

"That's slightly worrying." commented Al.

Suzuki held up the drawing. "Done!"

"You're very efficient...that's quite good. Actually, it's extremely good. You should certainly win any contest you enter." Art was becoming increasingly good lately, and Al loved to see it, mostly because when he was born "art" was little most that stick figures on a cave wall.

Suzuki smiled. "Thanks. I'm sure I will too."

"I'm curious, how did you get through school with that mouth?"

"Private school. With enough tuition you can do anything."

"Hmm...sounds like you don't need my riches."

"Just expanding my horizons...hey, waiter, can I get a drink? Whatever he's having." The waiter she beckoned to scurried off to fetch the drink she requested.

"And what brought you to a scene like this? As far as I can tell, this bar is frequented by foreigners."

"Maybe I'm a foreigner in heart."

"I doubt that. Japan is a wonderful, if somewhat confused, country."

The waiter arrived with Suzuki's drink, which she downed immediately. She made a face. "This isn't very strong. What is it?"

"Tomato juice." smirked Al.

"And...?"

"Just tomato juice."

"What, you some sort of recovered drunk?"

Glad to see common courtesy hadn't died out.

Al sipped his drink with dignity. "Not at all." He was technically lying, if you counted a drinking binge that lasted 40 years back in the 12th century. That had been a pretty pathetic time, but the 12th century was a pretty pathetic century.

"Hey, do you want to go back to my apartment?" suggested Suzuki.

Al raised an eyebrow in response.

"To do modeling!" continued Suzuki, although the promise of more hung in the air. "For my art. You're the perfect man to draw, slender but masculine. Please?"

Albireo wasn't called masculine nearly enough for his taste, and this comment won him over entirely. "Sure." he agreed.

"You're a rather agreeable fellow, aren't you?"

"I think we're a rather agreeable pair." replied Al.

"Most certainly." agreed Suzuki.

"My point exactly."

"So, you coming to my apartment? There's not much going on here."

Al glanced around critically. "I think I should warn you before we do. I'm not especially interested in a long term relationship."

Suzuki smirked. "What, you got lots of baggage?"

"Something like that."

"Don't worry, I'm not either. So let's get this shindig started, shall we? you have a very nice body."

"Hmm..."

She winked. "I might just want you to pose nude. For the purposes of my art."

"Of course."

"Let's go."

Suzuki grabbed his arm, and he obligingly followed her back to her apartment, where they did a great many things in the name of "art".

Al once again found himself in the same damn bar, drinking the same damn tomato juice and listening to the same damn jazz. Japan may have been a changing country, but it wasn't changing fast enough for Al's tastes, at least not on a day to day basis.

"Hello there." said a cheery, familiar voice.

"Hello, Suzuki." he greeted warmly.

"I have something to tell you." announced Suzuki, and Al knew he wouldn't have to wait long. Suzuki was the kind of woman who held no secrets, at least not for very long.

"You're the first one I've told, so be ready."

He sipped his tomato juice in preparation, ready for a spit-take if needed.

"I'm pregnant!"

The spit-take was not needed. At over 2000 years old, he'd fathered an inordinate amount of children, and supported them all (well, all the ones born since A.D.- he hadn't always been a particularly good person).

"And it's mine?"

Suzuki rolled her eyes. "Well, obviously. Why else would I be telling you?"

"A shoulder to lean on?"

"How loose to you think I am?"

Fairly loose, if she'd had a night of wild sex after knowing Al for about an hour, but he thought it prudent not to comment. Seeing the look on Al's face, she stuck out her tongue.

"Don't answer that. Yes, it's yours."

"What do you want me to do? I'll give you money."

"Help me raise the thing. I'm no good with babies."

This was an unusual request, and Al swallowed hard. He liked shoving money and the women he impregnated, not staying around to help them grow up. This may be bad parenting on his part, but it was necessary for his mental state, as he was sick of watching his children grow old and die in front of him. It wasn't healthy, and he really couldn't stand much more of it...but it looked like he'd have to make an exception to the rule.

"I may be able to offer...assistance..." he said hesitantly.

Suzuki saw his face and patted him on the head. "Don't worry. I can tell what kind of man you are. You don't have to stick around forever, just for a little while. Past the diaper-changing stage, at least. That's all I'm asking..."

It was cruel. It was cruel what she was asking of him, crueler than she could possibly know. She was throwing him a glimpse of what a real family was like, until she'd aged ten years and he was the same and she realized something was amiss. He didn't alter his appearance with aging spells anymore. He wasn't looking for love, just happiness. For him they were very different things.

"I'll be here," he replied, to his own surprise and chagrin. Damn conscience.

She threw her hands up in relief. "Awesome. Honestly, I don't really known what I would've done if you'd said no. Probably been shipped off to the country to have the kid. You're going to have to marry me now, you know."

"Marry you?" he echoed.

"Do you want me to live in shame? Just a couple years, than you can disappear. We better do it soon so we can say our baby was a honeymoon baby, though. Is tomorrow good?"

Al felt like he was being strung alone in some elaborate ruse. "Sure?"

"Cool deal. Be here at six P.M. tomorrow. Look sharp!" She hurried off, leaving a bewildered Al wishing he had something stronger than tomato juice.

The marriage was quick, and the only witness was the janitor, who happened to walk in at that time. Al later got to know this janitor, whose name was Toshiro Akihito, and they became good friends. Suzuki was pretty in a sort of I-just-got-out-of-the-shower-and-didn't-have-time-to-put-makeup-on sort of way. He wore a suit and felt overdressed for his own wedding.

Suzuki's birth, on the other hand, was _not_ quick. She was in labor for fourteen hours, and crushed every bone in Al's hand during that time. When the baby was born she decided to name it Kiba Theodore, became she like the way the names sounded. Al had no say in any of this, but, hell, he'd heard worse names. He knew a man, immortal like himself, who'd gotten stuck with the name Gwenevieve and had to live with it forever.

Little Kiba Theodore grew quickly, and the years passes at an alarming rate. with each day Al became more scared to see his son, because he'd doubtlessly get older and older and older and then die, as had all his children. He hid it from Suzuki, but Suzuki was a very perceptive woman and Al couldn't hide much from her for long. She noticed that he wasn't aging, and seemed to accept it, and the night after Kiba Theodore's eighth birthday she approached him.

"You have to go, don't you?"

"Hmm?" Al evaded her confusing question, his brain tired. He had no idea why she'd decided to wake him up in the middle of the night, but he knew better than to ask.

"You're going to have to leave soon." She kissed him, and this helped wake him up.

"Huh?"

"It's getting painful for you, isn't it? Staying here, watching Kiba grow up." She knew. He didn't know how, but she knew.

Al was hit with the realization that she knew him much better than anyone had known him in at least five hundred years. The realization that she would grow old and die saddened him. She was so lively. If anyone should live forever, it was her, not him. She might be able to make use of eternal life.

"Yes." he answered simply.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, Al," she whispered, uncharacteristically serious.

"I'm the one who's going to be leaving you."

"No. You're the one being hurt here. I'll die, but you'll remember this. It must hurt to live this long."

He smiled sadly in response, then kissed her in response, a mournful broken promise of a kiss.

He was awake now, and fueled by her understanding of why he couldn't stay, hehugged her awkwardly (hugging had never been natural to him) and wished he could grow old. Damn, how much he wished he could die right then.

But he didn't. Instead he left that night, waking Kiba up to say goodbye to the confused eight year old. He didn't bother taking anything with him. He was rich, and the world was his fucking oyster, the same way it had been for the past two thousand years.

Every year, Suzuki recieved a large sum of cash and a short, handwritten letter from Al. He didn't know if Kiba ever saw them. He didn't want to know. But in those letters he said many things to one of the few women who ever understood him. He loved her unconditionally, but it was a lot easier to love someone unconditionally when you knew you would outlive her.

He wondered if Suzuki had ever thought about replying. He wondered if she'd remarried or fallen in love with someone else. He wondered how Kiba was. He wondered, but did not think it his business to find out. Still, Al thought there was something vaguely romantic about it all.

* * *

"You call that a love story with a happy ending?" objected Chisame loudly.

"No one died at the end. In my view, that's a happy ending." replied Al cheerfully.

"That's sad..." said Konoka, her face grave.

Asuna crossed her arms. "That Suzuki reminds me of someone..."

"Now who could that possibly be?" said Al innocently.

"The drawing, the boisterous personality, the way you described her..." continued Asuna, thinking hard.

"You're right," agreed Konoka. "She _does _remind me of someone..."

"What ever happened to Kiba Theodore?" asked Chisame suspiciously.

"He grew up." stated Al.

"And what was his last name?"

"Imma. But he did change it to Saotome when he grew older, probably because the war was on and having Theodore for a middle name was suspicious enough. He didn't want to seem any more Western than that...and me not being there for him probably had a factor in it."

"So his name was Kiba Theodore Saotome, not Kiba Theodore Imma?" confirmed Chisame.

"What's it mean?" asked Asuna.

"Isn't it obvious?" roared Chisame. "Saotome! Kiba probably had a son, who had a daughter. _And you know who that was?_"

It was a rhetorical question that neither Asuna nor Konoka had the answer for.

"Haruna! Haruna Saotome? Oi, ero-nasubi, does Paru know?"

"Glad to see Eva's nickname has caught on." smiled Al.

"Stop avoiding my question," growled Chisame. "Does she?"

"Yes, Chibi-Chiuu," replied Al. "She knows. She's coming over tomorrow to do my hair."

This revalation was met with the sound of barely suppressed giggles.

"Don't call me Chibi-Chiuu," grumbled Chisame. "It's just..."

"You like it whe Negi calls you that."

"Yeah, but that's Negi. When you do it it's just creepy..."

"Apparently I can make any sentence creepy," shrugged Al. "It's nothing new."

The girls exchanged glances. "We better get going. Why didn't you tell Paru this story?"

"I will when she comes here tomorrow. I'd hurry if I were you. Your curfew's almost up."

Konoka glanced at her watch. "Oh, my, it is! We have to go!"

The girls hurried out, and Al yawned. He was going to get his rest before the ordeal he was to go through tomorrow.

He was going to need it.

* * *

Reviews are love (that's a blanket statement, I don't expect to actually get any...my bitterness is palpable XD)! :)


	8. 1935 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

After two whole reviews I decided to grace you with my presence once again...har har har...I don't know, what that a laugh?

Thank you Alexander (don't feel like you _have_ to review XD) and Koyuki-san (you know how much I appreciate you!). you two are pretty much the reason I decided to post this today. Thanks!

Enjoy!

* * *

Konoka, Asuna, and Chisame practically ran into the room.

"Look what we found!" sang Konoka.

Al was mildly interested. "What is it?"

Konoka waved around an old, stained book with the excitement of a kindergartner.

"It's a yearbook." explained Chisame.

"From 1935!" added Asuna.

That year sounded familiar, but then again _every_ year sounded familiar to Albireo.

Konoka excitedly opened to to a page and shoved it in front of Al's face. "Look, look!" she shouted.

He scanned the page and found that in the place were the teacher's photo should be there was a picture of him instead. He smiled.

"That's right, I'd almost forgotten that I'd taught at Mahora back in the day," Al may have looked young, but he had fully earned the right to use that phrase however often he wished. Hell, he'd _invented_ it.

"I wanna know about your Mahora days!" whined Konoka.

"Did you go to school here?" asked Asuna.

They all looked at her.

"What! This school's old!"

"I was born in France," reminded Al gently.

"We have exchange students!"

"Asuna..." sighed Chisame. "That's not the problem here..."

"The answer to your question is no."

"Thank you, I don't understand why you're all looking at me like I'm stupid or just grew a second head or something..." she muttered.

"I'll tell you a Mahora story...give me a moment to collect my thoughts...sometimes its harder to remember recent events than old ones, ne?"

"That's what they say about Alzheimer's patients," smirked Chisame. Al pretended he didn't hear her.

"Ah! One of my students was a young man from a very affluent family, and I took him under my wing and taught him many things..."

They tried not to let their minds go in the gutter, but Albireo's mere presence made it difficult.

"He grew up to be a fine young man...his name was...ah, what was it..."

* * *

"Konoemon, Konoe?" Al looked up from his attendance sheet to see a young man timidly raise his hand. There were snickers around the room at the sound of the name that poor Konoemon had been blessed with.

He called off the rest of the attendance and seated himself. He'd been teaching at Mahora Academy for ten years now, and he rather liked it. He would much rather been teaching the girls' part of the academy, like he had years previous, but it seemed that the head of the school didn't approve of his methods. Albireo was fully aware that he was kept around for defense reasons- although the current headmaster was under the impression that Albireo was just a light-skinned Hellas man or something along those lines, the sort that aged at a slower rate. Al wasn't planning on enlightening him.

"Now, most teachers start their first day of school by talking about the course. I say we postpone it until tomorrow and play a little ice-breaking game. What do you say?"

Thirty eyes stared back at him, uncomprehending. This wouldn't involve homework, right?

Al clapped his hands. "Everyone, get in a circle."

No one made a move.

"Get in a circle or I'll give you detention." he ordered cheerily.

The room was filled with the sound of scraping chairs and muttering pre-teens. He plopped down daintily at one end of the circle, and the kids closest to him scooted away warily in case of being accused of being a teacher's pet.

"I'm going to say a category," he explained. "And you're going to say the first word that pops into your head. There can be no losers, but be honest. We'll go left. Understand?"

"Yes." chorused the slightly bewildered students. Was this teacher being...nice?

"The category is...lunch."

Albireo let his trademark smile grace his lips, but inside wished it was lunchtime. He was hungry! He'd missed breakfast, and had had little food the day before...or the day before that...he needed to take better care of himself, or else he'd- what? Die? He chuckled inside, them brought himself back to reality.

They went around in a circle, and Al listened to the responses closely.

"Bento."

"Banana."

"Mother."

"School."

"Bread."

"Rice."

"Plum."

"...Unicorn."

There was a pause as everyone turned to stared at the black-haired boy with a long face, who blushed. "I-It was the first thing that came to my mind." he stuttered.

Al smiled broadly. "That's fine, Konoemon-kun. Honesty is always best. My first thought when I heard the word lunch was the human eyeball."

All the students were suddenly scared for their academic future.

"Imma-sensei?"

Al looked up from the papers he was grading, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. "Yes?"

Konoemon shuffled his feet. "Do you think I could eat my lunch in the classroom today?"

"Is something wrong? It's a nice day out, isn't it?" He glanced out the window and confirmed that it was indeed bright and green outside.

"Um...yes, but the other kids are mean to me, so..." Konoemon stared at his lunch-box, his expression nervous.

"Of course you can stay," replied Al gently. "There's no problem. Do your parents know?"

"T-They would say it was weakness..."

"What do they do for a living?"

"My father is a high ranking samurai in Kyoto...and my mother is a teacher here..."

"Good connections, huh?"

Konoemon looked embarrassed as he sat in a desk and started eating. "I guess...but I don't think my parents like me much..."

Al raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"Yes...they never praise me or are nice to me...they're always expecting things of me..."

Al reached over to Konoemon and patted his head. "I believe all parents care about their children, Konoemon-kun," Essentially a lie, but a little white lie wouldn't hurt this kid. "Your parents love you very much."

"How would you know?" This statement wasn't accusatory, but questioning. Konoemon really wanted to know. "Are you a parent?"

"Yes, but most of my children are dead," he sighed, a sad smile on his face. "It's something I've long learned to accept."

Konoemon's eyes widened dramatically. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know!"

Al cursed inside. Should've known better to say something like that to a child. "No, No- I'm sorry for being so open. You can talk about your problems with me, that's what I'm here for. What I was trying to say was that I am a parent, Konoemon-kun, and therefore I know that your parents must love you a great deal."

"Oh...thank you."

Konoemon continued eating, and Al graded a few more papers.

"Why do the students bully you?" pried Al gently.

"Oh...because my face looks like an eggplant." admitted Konoemon shamefacedly.

"Really?" replied Al, delighted. "I get called ero-nasubi all the time! We're two of a kind!"

"I'm not a pervert." defended Konoemon.

"All men are perverts. Wait until you hit puberty."

"_I_ won't be one." announced Konoemon haughtily.

"What makes you so special?"

"I don't want to be a lecher! They're gross!"

"Just like women, right?" teased Al.

"Yes! The both have cooties!" replied Konoemon without thinking. Realizing what he'd said, he blushed. "Sorry, I'm being silly."

"No," soothed Al. "You are not being silly. Hold on to your childhood as long as you can. Ease out of it gently, and treasure it while you still have it."

"What was your childhood like?"

"Full of questions, aren't you?"

"S-Sorry..."

"My childhood was normal. I was a farmer's child, nothing more." he answered vaguely, suppressing images of beatings and the feeling of being worthless. That was a _very_ long time ago, and it didn't matter anymore. Abuse was the trend of that time, after all.

"Imma-sensei, I-"

They were interrupted by the sound of the bell, and Konoemon quickly stuttered, "T-Thanks."

Al winked. "Talk to me any time you need me."

For the rest of his school career, Konoemon did. He came to him for advice about schoolwork and his home-life and every problem he came across, placing his absolute trust in his teacher. When he was fifteen and met a cute little girl named Sayo, he confided in Al. When Sayo was killed he cried on Al's shoulder. Al was the teacher who presented their high school diplomas, and he couldn't of been prouder.

Years later, Konoemon would return the favor tenfold.

* * *

"Ooooh," squealed Konoka. "What did he do to return the favor?"

"I'll tell that story some other time," replied Al dismissively.

"Teaser," pouted Chisame angrily. "That's just mean."

Al shrugged delicately. "What can I say? I have to keep you coming back, after all. I have to keep you hooked."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." grumbled Chisame.

Asuna jumped up. "Crap, I have work tomorrow. Awesome story, though, I'll never look at Headmaster Konoe the same way again."

"Why?" asked Al. "He hasn't changed. Only your perception of him has."

"...Huh?"

"Never mind," sighed Al.

"Okay." finished Asuna obliviously.

"See you!" called Konoka.

Al raised his teacup in response, thumbing through the yearbook curiously. NOt even a hundred years ago, but it still felt like a long time.


	9. 1962 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

I started writing this chapter forever ago but didn't like it...then I lost my flash drive and thought it was gone, so I didn't worry about it. Then I found it stored in the back of my computer and decided to finished it. It's an Alcatraz chapter, although I subconsciously confuse it was Azkaban, so if you see that don't be confused. XD I'm not promsing it's very good, but I hope you like it anyway. Thank you Koyuki-san and Alexander for your reviews, they keep me writing.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

"We're baaaack!" sang Konoka, hopping onto the terrace where Albireo sat. He was drinking coffee today, the first time they had ever actually seen him ingest anything other than tea.

"Welcome to my home." said Al.

"Your story better be good," grumbled Chisame, who was secretly in a very good mood. "I don't want a lame story."

"I'll try my best."

"Let's rock or roll!" shouted Asuna in badly accented English.

"You girls certainly seem excited," remarked Al, amused. "I think I have a good story..."

"Yes? What is it?" asked the girls excitedly.

"Hold your horses. Give me a second to think...Ah, I have it...

"...Back in the '60s I was roaming around the U.S. I spent a lot of that century there, as it was a relatively new world, and I was ready to embrace the prospect of new scenery. Not that I hadn't been to the Americas before, but that's a different story...anyway, I was wandering around the hobo camps..." Al watched the girls snicker at the idea of refined Albireo at a hobo camp, then continued. "I was arrested, however, for a crime I may or may not have had some part in..."

* * *

The girls leaned back in their chairs, each of them grabbing a food item from the assortment in front of them.

"There's no need to be so rough, gentleman," said Al, his smile a little more unhappy than usual. "I'm not giving you any trouble."

"Murderers don't get special treatment." growled one of the guards.

Al sighed. He had a firm view of not using magic against non-magical people, but he would've broken that rule if he could've. In his last battle he'd ended up having to seal his own magic temporarily to prevent himself from being decapitated. While this wouldn't have killed him, it would've been painful and tiresome, so Al had thought the other option would have been better. When he had finished the healing process he had returned to consciousness to find himself in the middle of a circle of eight dead, mangled bodies. He had only fought them because they were convinced he was a bounty, then had threatened nearby villagers. Al couldn't really explain this to the police that arrived, so he ended up being arrested for their murders. Al, ever the honest man, confessed to his crimes.

The murder of eight men in a horribly violent manner wasn't something that was overlooked in America. It took every favor he had to call in and ask the nearby mages to prevent his picture from being on the front page and his name to be changed.

He was successfully proven guilty to every murder and was sentenced to prison for life, which, with Albireo's life-span, could be much more troublesome than they thought. Albireo wasn't too worried. His magic would return in ten years tops, and then he'd be able to escape easily.

But prison life was hard, even for him. He had spent a large amount of his life in luxury, and the times he hadn't he'd almost always had his freedom. The few times he'd been incarcerated his magic had gotten him out of the fix in no time.

He decided very quickly that he didn't like the prison uniforms. He also didn't like the handcuffs, the guards, or the prison itself. But the inmates were the worst.

It must be a very lonely prison indeed when all a man needs to induce a catcall is a petite man with long hair walking past your cell. Albireo wasn't unduly upset, just mildly repulsed.

"Have fun. It's your first day, I'm sure you'll meet new friends." mocked the guard, locking him in the cell. It had only a bed, toilet, and sink. The was a shelf for personal items, but Al's only personal item was a hand-painted doll he'd had for several years. It was a sad sight, sitting up on the shelf alone.

He sat on the bed and sighed. How stupid was he? He must be getting soft. His time must be over if he was getting himself into fixes like this.

He heard a throaty laugh next to him, and glanced over to his right, where the bars separated him from the occupant next door to him. He couldn't quite see the man, due to the wall between them, but he could hear him.

"Welcome, little piggy."

"That's not even funny," said Al mildly. "You're just being cliche." He sounded much more calm than he felt, as he was very angry for himself for his lack of thought.

"Thought I'd give it a try. You sound like an easy target. In here for tax fraud?"

"You don't get sent here for tax fraud." Albireo was glad his voice was deeper than you'd expect. He was French, after all. His heterosexuality was already in question.

"Don't beat around the bush."

"I'm a murderer."

Again with the throaty laugh. "Aren't we all?"

"Stop it, I already told you that you're being cliche. I'm a mass murderer."

"I'm afraid to say anything for being chastised. The name's Joe."

"Al."

"Short for anything?"

"Al."

"Lunch in half an hour. It'll be fun for you, I'm sure."

"Thank you for the note of confidence. Stop talking in tropes or I'll have to castrate you."

"Through a wall?"

"I'll find a way."

"No, you won't."

"You're right." sighed Al. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He'd let himself become weak. Stupid, naive, man. He shouldn't be here right now. He should be in Mundus Magicus, drinking a very strong alcoholic beverages and flirting with any server that came his way, regardless of gender.

Albireo gave in to contemplation, and the other man fell silent. Half an hour passed, then forty-five minutes. He could hear prisoners complaining about lunch. Albireo just assumed the man had been wrong. He probably didn't even have a watch, let alone one that worked.

He started counting the gray threads of his uniform. He'd had more boring days. He'd spent decades alone. Except then he hadn't been a complete, utter fool that had been so stupid as to get caught by normal, non-magical humans and put in their prison.

Lunch did come, and Al let the handcuffs be put on him for the walk to the cafeteria. He ignored the curious looks he got and put on a small smile. He'd heard smiling was good for the soul. His soul needed it.

He waited in the jostling line for food and expected, but wasn't pleased to see, the slop that was slammed on his plate. He'd had better food in eighteenth century London, and that was saying something.

He sat at an empty table, but was promptly told that this was someone else's table. Grade school maturity. This happened three more times, until he decided not to move. He knew this was stupid. He wasn't really in the mood to care.

"Get moving, punk." said the large, imposing man glaring at him.

Al wished he could plug his hears and use subtitles for these men. He'd love to have missed all those awful, awful lines of dialogue.

"I'd rather not."

"I'd rather you did."

Al inwardly slapped himself as he practically grinned (some masochistic tendency, he was sure) and said, "I don't care what you'd rather do."

He was promptly seized by the hair and shaken. Albireo could only wonder if he was in a New York radio drama.

"Move."

"I don't really have a choice now, do I?"

The man took a spoonful of the food-like slop and dropped it onto Al's face. He winced, then said, "Not the way I would've chosen to eat, but I'll take it."

He reached up to wipe it off his face but was stopped by another man, who attempted to twist his arm. Albireo parried it expertly and sent the man sprawling. The guards did nothing, appearing disinterested. Albireo could see the bets they were placing in their minds.

The main man attempted to choke Al, but he threw him too, wiping the slop off his face. He was quickly grabbed by the hair again.

"Do you think you're a girl?" hissed the man. "Most of us agree."

The man twisted, almost bringing Al to his knees. Al punched him. He was an expert in every martial art invented. The only way they would get him was if-

His hair was grabbed yet again.

-he wasn't paying attention.

A few more inmates decided to join the brawl and attacked Al, who did a very good job of defending himself despite the fact he hadn't had a good meals in months and hadn't practiced in longer.

The main man, getting up, pulled out a razor blade, hiding it in his palm so the guards could pretend not to see. First he socked Al in the face. Al hit him back, hard. So the man slashed the razor blade in his direction, and Al met his gaze, prepared for any pain coming his way.

There was none. The man cut off all his hair from the neck down, leaving him with an uneven cut ended up making him look even more feminine and vulnerable than he already did. He was kicked in the stomach, so he kicked the man back, trying to ignore the fact that for the first time since they had entered that millennium, his hair was short.

The guards finally stepped in, handcuffing him. They didn't touch a single one of the eight (had it really been eight?) men that had attacked him, but dragged Al away.

"Solitary confinement." said one gleefully.

"It's like a rite of passage." replied Al cheerily, his face throbbing. They unlocked his sore wrists and shoved him into a dark room.

The moment the door was shut, his hands flew to his head. His hair was gone, damn it. Stupid man, stupid, stupid man. Only eight untrained men attacking him, and he goes down like that? Stupid, useless man who cared more about appearances than his own health. Apparently eight was not his lucky number lately.

He slumped against the back wall. At least now he had some peace and quiet. Solitary confinement was akin to meditation to him. He ran his hand through his shortened hair and chuckled at his run of bad luck. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes, drifting off into a state close to sleep, where he didn't have to think about any of the unpleasantness in store for him.

It was hours later when the door open, and Al was still sitting like that. He was pulled up roughly and shoved outside the door. He smiled at the guard, and the guard rolled his eyes.

"Psychopath." he heard the guard mutter. He wouldn't have heard it without his superb hearing, a trait he'd acquired through generations of magical honing. It dampened his renewed spirits a bit, and he trudged with the man back to his cell.

When he was back in his cell, the voice he'd heard earlier spoke to him again.

"Hey, _Al_." said the voice patronizingly.

"Hello," replied Al brightly, determined to piss the other prisoners off in the nicest way possible. "Having fun over there?"

"I should be asking you that," snickered "Joe". "Twenty-four hours in solitary? Hah. You'd have cracked if you weren't already insane."

Twenty-four hours? Al hadn't realized that much time had gone by. He sighed. One day in a long life full of them wasn't much to lose. On the same note, it would only take a few years for his hair to grow back. He could deal with it until then, or at least until his magic came back and he could magically re-grow it.

"That was a pretty good fight out there," admitted the man. "My name's not really Joe."

"I know. It's Clarence."

The man didn't reply. "You heard of me or something?"

"No."

The man growled. "Are you playing games with me?"

"Yes, but don't get a big head about it. I play games with everyone. You're not unique." replied Al sweetly.

The man growled. "I was gonna let you in on a sweet deal, but you're obviously not receptive."

"Probably not. I'm an honest man, I don't really want to get involved with any shady deals."

Clarence laughed. "That's rich, coming from a serial killer."

"I never said I was a _shady _serial killer."

"There's a lot of things you don't have to say."

"What did you do to get in here?"

"My brother and I robbed banks." said Clarence, with a hint of pride in his voice.

Al sighed. "I'm sure you're using your riches well, right?"

"Oh, totally. Got a gold-plated cell, that's for sure. Hey, do you want to get in on a secret?"

"What's with you? I'm not the kind of man to trust." Al let malice creep into his voice.

"I know...but you took my brother's cell."

"And?"

"And we were...uh...planning something."

"And what would that be?" asked Al curiously.

"An...escape plan of sorts," admitted Clarence. "But Clarence was moved when you got here. The escape tunnel's really close to your cell."

"You're crazy." chuckled Al.

"Yeah, probably. But you're a serial killer, so you can't talk. And as much as it pains me to let a murderer out into the world," said Clarence, grinning sardonically as he said it, "I would be willing to let you in on our plans."

"You're crazy _and_ stupid. Great combination there."

"Don't call me stupid!"

"You're the one trusting me with this. You're asking for it."

"You seem like the kind of guy who'll do the right thing."

"And what's the right thing here? You'd think it would be keeping bank robbers in jail."

"How about the thing that prevents you from getting beat the shit out of every day and constantly ending up in solitary?"

Al contemplated it. That _would_ get bothersome after a while. And if he joined this escape plan there would be a much higher chance of success, and he'd get out ten years earlier than he'd expected. He could escape to the Magic World, where he could hide out and get laid simultaneously.

"Fine. I'll do it. I didn't really want to spend a life's sentence in here anyway."

"I'm just warning you," snarled Clarence, replying with the required threat. "You'll pay if you double-cross us. Like you said, we can't trust you."

"I'm no snitch."

"You sure as hell better not be."

"If I was, how would I know?"

"I liked you a lot better in solitary."

"Funny, I get that a lot."

"I don't find it hard to believe that you're a serial killer."

"Thank you."

Clarence apparently didn't know how to reply to that.

"So you're in for sure?"

"What part of yes don't you understand? No wonder you're in prison." Baiting people really was absurdly fun.

"Shut your face if you don't want to end up a bloody pulp."

"If I'm going to end up as a bloody pulp either way, why would I work with you?"

Clarence fell silent for a few moments, and Al laughed. "Don't worry, I'm in. But if you even think about trying something, your ass will be dead before you know it."

"We're in prison. There's no way you could get away with-"

"I'm a serial killer convicted for killing eight people. This is _Alcatraz_ What could I possibly have to lose?"

Yet again, Clarence decided it would be wiser to shut up.

Al cracked his knuckles. "You boys are lucky to have me on board. Without me, I seriously doubt this would have worked."

The other men exchanged glances. "You insulting us?" growled John Anglin, Clarence's brother.

"Not really. Not many men would've made it _this _far. It's a very risky plan."

"We know." muttered Frank Morris. He didn't trust Al whatsoever, which was fine with Al, since he didn't trust Frank, John, or Clarence. He just want a way out of here. Crouching down, he carefully removed the fan and motor from the fan vent and replaced the steel grill and substituted dummy rivets made of soap.

"As long as the guards don't give this a thorough search," he said. "We'll be fine."

"And if they do?"

"How will they know it was us? We'll still be fine, but we'll have to start from scratch, and they'll be watching for an escape attempt." he replied reassuringly.

They were planning to make their break in three days, and Al had the thrum of excitement in his veins that meant he was about to do something thrilling or eat at a really good French restaurant.

The next three days were probably excruciating to the other three men, but Al rather enjoyed them, spending the time meditating and working in the library. He didn't really have any other choice, after all.

Finally, the day came. Al had had the idea to use papier-mâché dummies and tape hair to them to give them a little extra time, and the others quickly agreed. They snuck out in the middle of the night, and Al made quick work of the only night guard in that area. He hoped there weren't many more- he disliked knocking people out, as it gave him a headache.

The operation went smoothly- _too_ smoothly. Al just _knew_ something had to come up before long, and he was right.

"Aw, shit," he heard one of the guys mutter nervously. "It's Bumpy Johnson."

Bumpy Johnson was the Godfather of Harlem, dabbling in every black trade on earth. He saw Al fiddling with the grate and visibly twitched.

"You let him in on the plan?" he growled.

Al waved, and the other three men shot him a look. "We had to," hissed Clarence. "He would've told."

Al started whistling. "It's good to go," he called softly. "Ready when you are."

Bumpy glared at all of them, and John shook his head. "You backed out. It's too late now."

Bumpy snarled, "I might just let the guards know. What would you do then?"

"Kill you." was the immediate response from Clarence, John, and Frank.

Bumpy looked nervous. "Can't you just let me back in?"

Al felt slightly bad for doing this, but he met Bumpy's eyes with a steady gaze and said, in a deep, dangerous tone. "Young man, you don't want to cross me. If I were you I'd hurry back to my bed and get some rest before my big day doing library, got it?"

None of the men present could say what exactly it was about Albireo's tone that scared them, but all four men present felt a deep fear, an almost primal terror. Their base instincts were telling them to run, that this was a predator and they should run while they still could.

Bumpy sulked off, and they each clambered into the pipe hole, carrying their boat made of raincoats. Al really felt rather ridiculous, but he kept quiet. He felt that these men would somehow not be supportive.

The wind was blowing fiercely and the sky was dark when they reached outdoors, but Al was unbelievably happy to see the light of day. He could literally drown and he would be able to get out of this. He could hide in the Magic World, hope Eva didn't find him while he was practically bald, and wait out until his hair had re-grown. Perfect.

He lifted the flimsy boat into the water and wondered if the other men would survive. It was certainly be harder with him on board. Sighing as he glanced at the water, he said, "You all best be going, then."

"Aren't you coming?" asked John.

"No, I have another way of getting off this island," confided Al. "It'll be easier for you if I take my route."

John and the others looked skeptical.

"You're not going to turn us in, are you?" growled Clarence feebly.

"Not at all," Al pointed to the ocean. "I'm going to swim."

"_Swim?_" repeated Frank, aghast.

"All the way back to New York?" said Clarence in wonder.

"Clarence, we're in California." sighed John.

"Oh...whatever."

"I'll swim to China if that's where the wind takes me." replied Al cheerily, although he was already shivering from the idea of plunging into that water. What had to be done had to be done.

"Are you sure?"

"You're crazy."

"Wait..this is California?"

Al nodded to the three men. "I wish you all the best of luck. Farewell!"

He turned and jumped off the Rock, plunging into the churning waters below.

Points for exit, but deductions for the time of year. It was freezing!

Al concentrated on swimming. He had a long way to go if he was going to make it to China.

* * *

"What happened to the others?" asked Konoka immediately.

"They lived," shrugged Al. "The did bad things and good things and died, like all men. Their fate doesn't concern me much."

"You swam all the way to China?" cried Asuna, shocked. Chisame shot her a glance of incredulity- did she actually believe that was possible?

Al shook his head sadly. "No, I drowned in about fifty miles. Washed up on Hawaii and spent some time with a nice old hermit."

"It's hard to imagine you with short hair..." said Konoka, looking seriously contemplative.

"That's why I grow it out. It's not becoming on me." repleid Al pridefully, but in such a way they knew he was being silly.

"Great story and all," interrupted Chisame. "But we'd better be going. Curfew and all."

Al waved his hand like the Queen of England. "Goodbye."

They witnessed this gesture and all wondered how in the name of Chamo's dirty panties that man survived even a day in prison.

Al ignored their mean thoughts and read a book.

* * *

I wrote the end after midnight, don't judge me. Reviews are love!


	10. 1984 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

Sorry for the slow update! I have tons of chapters done, but the library wouldn't let me uupdate yesterday!

About this chapter...hmmm...Eishun doesn't get enough love.

Enjoy!

* * *

"A-la Ru-bra, A-la Ru-bra, A-la Ru-bra, A-la Ru-bra," chanted the girls as the stomped in, towing a small boy along with them. "A-la Ru-bra, A-"

"I'm guessing you want to hear an Ala Rubra story?" interrupted Albireo.

"C-Colonel-san," said Negi Springfield in a small voice. "A-Am I allowed to be here? Asuna and Konoka insisted that I come, so-"

"You're fine, Negi-kun. Sit down and get something to eat. I'll oblige you all by telling an Ala Rubra story...hmm...oh, I have one...it was about twenty years ago, and Nagi, Jack, Filius, Eishun, and I were traveling Magicus Mundus battling in the war...we had just finished a tough battle, so we took a break at a hot springs..."

* * *

Al was very glad he was good at hiding his injuries, because this was going to be hard to pull off. In their last fight he'd broken his wrist, most of his ribs, twisted his ankle, badly bruised both his legs, and possibly sprained his tailbone. His back was also an assortment of yellows and blacks, and he was sure his neck was the saw, although as his neck was so sore he couldn't turn it, he didn't have any way of knowing. His magic was severely drained, so he couldn't even heal his minor injuries, but he put a mindless smile on his face and marched on with the others.

The reason for all this pain was because Nagi had made a ridiculously stupid mistake in battle and hadn't even realized it, and if Al hadn't been there to take the brunt of the attack Nagi probably would've died. Al didn't want Nagi to know how injured he was, because although Nagi would've outwardly laughed it off he would secretly be very guilty inside, and when Nagi was guilty it made life hell for everyone- he spent his entire time moping after you, asking if there was anything he could possibly do for you.

Al was managing to walk without limping, a miraculous feat, and was engaging Eishun in some light conversation (he'd rather talk to Filius, but he knew him well enough that he would be able to tell Al's discomfort), when Nagi yelled, "Awesome-sauce! There's a hot spring up there!"

Al cursed under his breath. Now, of all times...normally he adored hot springs, but now the very idea of hot water gave him the shivers.

He pretended to love the idea along with everyone else, but when they got in the hot spring he declined and sat on the bench nearby, the mere heat paining him to no end. He should've expected that sitting out would make him subject to attacks from Jack and Nagi- they started splashing boiling water at him, and he laughed with them, although inside he was writhing with pain.

They spent the night at a nice hotel adjoining the hot spring, and Al paid for his own room, grateful to get somewhere he could sleep and nurse his rooms in private. But just his luck- right when he took off his shirt, Eishun walked in. He expected Eishun to run off to tell Nagi and Jack, but he raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.

"I knew it!" he announced. "The others are too stupid to notice, but I could tell you were in pain."

"Really?" replied Al curiously, wishing his chest wasn't quite so bruised, as Eishun could see the impressive display. "How?"

"I saw that stunt Nagi pulled and the way you protected him. The idiot didn't even realize it..." sighed Eishun. "Also, you haven't been brushing your hair. A girly man like you always keeps his hair in top shape, and you've been neglecting it lately."

A laughed. "You're very observant."

"Sit down," ordered Eishun suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"I still owe you for that truck, so sit-"

"Oh, don't worry about that,," tittered Al, waving his broken wrist at Eishun, wincing afterwards. He really needed to learn how to minimize pain instead of ignore it.

"Turn around so I can see your back," growled Eishun.

Al turned obligingly so Eishun could see the bruises ad broken ribs- and also the large dragon tattoo covering his back.

He could _feel_ the shock on Eishun's face. It was literally palpable.

"Is that...a...Yakuza tattoo?" stammered Eishun.

"I've been around," shrugged Al, wincing as he did so.

"But that design...only the top Yakuza bosses have it! And it's so intricate, and the colors are so vivid..." marveled Eishun.

"Still? I've had it a good twenty years. I thought it would be fading by now."

Eishun shook his head. "Your tattoo isn't what's important here. Do you have any bandages?"

"Not on me, I usually heal my wounds with magic, but I'm nearly drained-" Al cut himself off. Now that Eishun knew he was magically weak he was going to have a much harder time convincing him to leave him alone.

Eishun raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Lie down on the bed."

"Hmm?"

"Don't be coy, Al-san, just get down there."

"Where do you want me to _go down_?"

"A-Al-san, please, listen to me," stuttered Eishun, blushing. "I'm just trying to help.

Al sighed and pressed his face against the bed, suppressing a groan of pain. Eishun hovered over him, pressing his back to check for injuries. "You're severely injured, Al-san," said Eishun. "You should take better care of yourself."

"Why? What's going to happen if I don't?"

Eishun didn't know what to say to that, so he rummaged up some bandages and started to wind them tightly around Al, pausing just before he did so. "Al...I can set the bones if you want me to, but it'll hurt..."

"Do what you want to," replied Al breezily, his head still smushed against the pillow.

Eishun took a deep breath and set three of Al's ribs in succession, one right after the other. Al was very still throughout the entire process, and Eishun marveled at his bravery.

"I'm not brave," mumbled Al. "I just have a high pain tolerance."

Eishun treated the rest of Al's injuries in a similar fashion and then settled onto the bed next to him.

"Why do you act so tough?" asked Eishun quietly. "You're not like Jack and Nagi, you don't go out of your way to be macho."

Albireo examined his polished fingernails. "That's a good question. Even if I don't look like one, at the end of the day I'm still a man."

"I don't get it," Eishun confessed. "To me, if something hurts I'll yell and then do something about. I won't just let it bleed. I don't think I'm as brave as you guys."

Albireo shook his head. "I don't know about Jack and Nagi, but this certainly isn't bravery. I just told you that a minute ago. It doesn't take bravery to ignore injuries that will not kill you. I do not and will never know if I'm a brave man."

Eishun clenched his fists. "That's ridiculous! Of course you're brave. No one fights like you."

Al met his gaze evenly with his deep blue eyes. "That's not what I'm saying. I can fight strong because I know I will not die. If that advantage were to be taken away from me, would I still be able to fight? Or would I quake in fear and collapse?"

"That's really bother you, isn't it, Al-san?" asked Eishun quietly. "For what it counts, I think you would be a most formidable fighter with or without the advantage of immortality. I would never want to go against you."

Al leaned against the pillow, his breathing growing shallow. "Ah...that is very kind. But my personality has been shaped on this immortality of mine. I was not a good man before I possessed it. If I lost it, would I cease to be the man I am now?"

Eishun seriously thought about. He sat silently, watching Albireo struggle to fight off sleep. "No."

Al raised a tired eyebrow. "Why? Do you have a reason?"

"No. Do I _need_ a reason?" Eishun thumped his stomach. "I feel it in my gut, and we've made decisions based on less than that. If you ever doubt that answer, look inside you. You'll be able to see what a great person you are...but seriously, don't you think you should get some sleep?"

To his surprise, Al's calloused hand grabbed at the sleeve of his turtle-neck and pulled him onto the bed with him, where Eishun slept peacefully, still in his clothes, next to Al. Maybe, Eishun figured, he wasn't as useless to Ala Rubra as he'd thought.

* * *

As soon as the story was over, Konoka jumped up in the air. "Yes, my father _did _something! And he was cool! Secchan's going to be so happy!"

"Yeah," agreed Asuna. "He gets overshadowed by everyone else a lot, but he really is a good guy."

Chisame's mind was stuck on something else. "You have a _Yakuza_ tattoo?"

Al smirked. "If it's still there. It's been a while since I last checked."

"Can we see?" asked Chisame apprehensively.

Al obligingly turned his back to them, discarded his robe, and pulled up the back of his turtle-neck. In addition to a large burn scar on his lower back and side there was, lo and behold, a colorful dragon tattoo covering the whole expanse of his back.

"The colors are so vivid!" gawked Asuna.

"Oh my..." whispered Negi, images of bright Nagi tattoos shining in his mind.

"Still?" asked Al, amused. "My tattoo artist must've been exceptionally talented."

"Wow..." said Konoka. "I wish I was in the Yakuza..."

No one was sure how to respond to that, and they were all grateful when Konoka changed the subject.

"I want to go tell Secchan how awesome my dad is!" announced Konoka, standing up.

Negi blushed. "Ala Rubra's so cool..."

"You think they're hot, don't you, Negi-kun?" grinned Asuna.

"Well..." Negi glanced at Al. "In a m-manly sort of way..." Negi scuttled out after Konoka, embarrassed. Asuna waved a couple fingers half-heartedly as she left.

"Nice to know," commented Al. "And you?" he asked Chisame.

"I think I'll stay," muttered Chisame. "You're going to explain to mean how exactly you earned this tattoo. And then you're tell me why your pain tolerance is so high. Also, I'd like to know about that weird scar. And maybe about your chest hair, too. You seem to have a lot."

Al rasied his teacup. "We may be here a while."

Chisame shrugged. "Not like I have anything better to do."

"I'll toast to that."

* * *

Sorry if you love Negi...but he's ten,and to me ten year olds are boring. I think this is the very first time ive ever written him.

What did you think? Reviews are love! :)


	11. 1888 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

This chapter isn't my best chapter, but I wrote it for a friend who loves Oscar Wilde. Yeah. Basically it.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

"Hey, Colonel-han, tell us, did you ever meet anyone cool?" asked Konoka.

"Anyone cool? I've met several 'cool' people," he mused. "What about Shakespeare?"

"Ew," said Asuna, wrinkling her nose. "We just learned about him. I don't wanna hear his name for a while."

"I have an idea!" exclaimed Al, semi-dramatically, a triumphant smile on his face. "Have you ever heard of-"

"Let's assume Asuna hasn't," interrupted Chisame. "Continue."

"Oscar Wilde," finished Al demurely. "I'll tell you a story about the highly unusual way I met him."

"Who?" asked Asuna.

They all sighed a little in their hearts.

"It was a long, long time ago..."

"In a galaxy far, far away..." finished Chisame under her breath. Al did not get the joke and promptly ignored her.

"...And, although I had quite the prominent social status at the time, I was in an underground bar in London..."

* * *

Albireo stared at his drink with half-opened eyes. He was getting tired, but the boys would complain if he attempted to leave. He smiled dreamily at the young man who was attempting some sort of awkward courting ritual with him. He was obviously quite inexperienced with this sort of thing, so Al kissed him deeply and he rushed out with a red face and broad smile.

Al relaxed in his chair, catching the eye of another man sitting at a table a feet from him. He winked, and the other man blushed. The British had such a homophobic attitude that everyone in gay bars tended to be very nervous.

The other man fidgeted, toying with the possibility of approaching Al, so Al made it easier by beckoning to him with his finger. The man slowly sidled over to him and slid into the seat next to him.

"Hello, sir," said Al smoothly. "My name is-" He cut off when he recognized this man as one of the leading figures of British society and a well-loved playwright, Oscar Wilde. The things you learned about people.

Apparently Oscar Wilde recognized him too, because he turned red and stuttered, "You're Albireo Imma! I suspected, but..."

"Suspected what?" chuckled Al, taking a dainty sip from a glass.

"There are some very odd rumors flying out there..."

Al shrugged. "Let them fly. I have better thing to do that worry about others' opinions."

"But you're high society!" protested Oscar.

Was he still? He would've thought that England would've forgotten about him by now. Maybe he should return to the Magic World if they hadn't. "That's not my fault. I live how I want to, regardless of my social stature. If I feel like falling in love with a woman, that's what I'll do. If I feel like loving a man I'll love him too. I've lived long enough to earn it." He winced at his choice of wording. That must've sounded ridiculous.

"Lived long enough...? Wait," Something dawned on Oscar. "My grandmother once said that she'd met a man with the same name. Are you the same man?"

"You are a gullible fellow, aren't you?" commented Al, ruffling Oscar's hair. For an established thirty-five year old man this should've been humiliating, but just made him blush. "You'd believe anything."

"You're lying?"

"No, but most wouldn't believe me in this so-called scientific age," scoffed Al. "Probabilistically speaking, I am much older than you."

Oscar sighed. "What it must be like to be able to do what you want."

"It is not worth immortality," replied Al. "But it is a perk. No matter your age, you can do what you want. The consequences can be severe, but is it worth it? Many would argue, yes, it is."

"Worth it?" echoed Oscar.

Al smiled. "To live according to your heart. To follow your own rules. I'm sure Jack the Ripper felt the same way, but what can you do? Even he had that right once, although he abused it and I had to dispose of him."

"You...you killed Jack the Ripper?"

"Hmm...I must be getting drunk. I'm talking quite a lot."

"I envy you," said Oscar frankly. "Tell me your secrets."

"To immortality? Or to being happy?"

"To both!" cried Oscar, only half-joking.

"I am not sure you believe me on the former, but do not fear, it does not matter...as for the latter, I do not think I am happy."

"Not happy," replied Oscar. "It is a tremendous thing to think that you are not happy when you possess the greatest gift, the alchemy that has eluded so many, if you truly are immortal."

"Truly am immortal? Maybe with a well-placed arrow I could die, I do not know. For immortality is nothing more of an uncertainty than anything. Mortals know they will die in the end, it's the getting there that troubles them."

Oscar was beginning to show the wit he was so well-renowned for. "But for the end, there would be no mystery in a mortal's life. We are doomed to repeat the cycle of our ancestor's lives and yet are so preoccupied with bearing enough children to consciously continue it."

"What if you fulfill life's duties by bearing many children, only to outlive each and every one of them, time and time again? Do you truly bear a purpose in life?" Al swirled his glass, certain they were both very drunk.

"What if the purpose in life is not to bear children but to bear happiness? What if it is a lack of that fulfillment that leads to immortality?"

"Then the whole world would be immortal...although it is true that the unhappy become the great philosophers and writers that go down as immortal in history. Is that what you mean?"

"I suppose it has to be. What else could I mean?" slurred Oscar, looking very attractive in his suit. He smelled of cologne, and Al decided he was getting sick of this conversation.

"You could mean that you wish that unhappy people could become immortal, so that you would be flesh and blood forever..." said Al. "I cannot promise you that, but if you'll accompany me upstairs I can promise that you'll live forever in_ my_ memory."

Oscar looked very happy with this idea, and followed Al up to his private room, where the deep discussions on human nature ceased, and Al certainly let Oscar go free and do whatever he wanted that night.

* * *

"Ew..." said Chisame, her face contorted in a grossed out expression. "Thank you for stopping there."

"I get it!" exclaimed Konoka. "You were the inspiration for the _Picture of Dorian Grey_, weren't you?"

"The what?" asked Asuna.

"It's a novel Oscar Wilde wrote about forbidden pleasures and a portrait that aged instead of the man who was painted," explained Chisame. "Konoka is saying that Oscar Wilde got it from Albireo, who's immortal and believes in living his life freely, something Wilde couldn't do."

"Oh, I get it," said Asuna, clapping her fist in her hand. "I think..."

"I give up..." sighed Chisame.

Al sipped his tea. "You're right, Chisame. Oscar sent me a letter when it was published that led me to the same conclusion. Although he was also influenced by a college friend of his. I think I just pushed him to write the novel."

"Don't you feel guilty?" accused Chisame. "That novel was what led Oscar Wilde to being jailed and dying destitute."

"He wrote it, not me. If he regretted it he should've kept it to himself."

"Do you like being immortal, Colonel-han?" asked Konoka suddenly.

Al's expression saddened, although his smile remained. "No, I'd have to save that I don't. But it is my lot in life, and what right do I have to complain?"

"A big right," replied Chisame promptly. "A huge right. You didn't ask for any of this shit, so get over yourself and complain once and a while. Drop the refined act and whine your heart out. I'll listen, although I'll whine right back at you. Don't be a martyr, for otaku's sake."

Al blinked in surprise, a major reaction. "Thank you, Chisame-chan. Maybe I'll invite you over so I can do that."

"You _could_ pick someone else...I'm not the most sympathetic ear..." said Chisame, coming to her senses.

"No, it has to be you," proclaimed Al. "I'll let you know when I want to whine all day, okay?"

"Yeah...sure...we gotta go, right Konoka, Asuna?"

"Huh? Oh...sure...yeah." replied Asuna hazily.

"See you!" called Konoka on their way out.

Al laughed loudly, his deep laugh ringing clear as a bell. Mortals were so much fun to mess with...it almost made him wish he was one of them.

* * *

What did you think? Tell me in a review? :)


	12. 1953 Anno Domini

Dsiclaimer- I don't own Negima.

Woah, Luxa, new chapter already? i'll be honest, I have like, five chapters done. I also have the last three halfway finished, so any delay is just laziness on my part. XD Thank you all (three of you) for your wonderful reviews! :) By the way, Alexander, logging in would be helpful so I could reply to you privately, not where everything I saw can be broadcasted to all...thirty...people who read this. XD Yeah, I didn't really like the philosophy in that chapter, but Oscar Wilde is known for being like that...

This chapter takes place directly after the Ala Rubra one, where Chisame demands to know the story behind the tattoo.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

"Hey, Al," growled Chisame.

"Yes?" replied Al pleasantly.

"I'm super dying to know...how'd you get that tattoo?"

Al shuddered delicately. "It's a rather painful subject."

"So?"

"Ah, touche..."

"Stop avoiding me and tell the story!"

"You are a harsh mistress..." sighed Al. "It was the '50s, in Japan, shortly after the war. I had sustained some injuries in battle and was currently relaxing in Japan...in doing so, I somehow got myself involved in the Yakuza..."

* * *

Al was woken by his nap on the desk by a knocking on his door. He yawned and sat up, trying to make it look like he'd been doing something important and yakuza-like.

"Come in!" he called cheerily, although he was secretly wishing he was still asleep.

"You have a visitor, sir," said the young man adorned with tattoos. His name was Akamatsu, and he was Al's new secretary after the old one had gotten shot. All in a day's work working with the yakuza, and he was getting excellent healthcare.

"Send them in," replied Al kindly, "Is it business?"

"I'm not entirely sure, sir," confessed Akamatsu. "She just stormed in and demanded to see you."

"Ah," said Al, smiling. "I know who see is. Send her in."

Approximately two minutes later, a barefooted but busty Evangeline A.K. McDowell stormed in.

"You're looking healthy," commented Al. "But I like you better without boobs."

"Go to hell, you creep."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I heard you became the kingpin of a major yakuza in Japan. Came to see if it was true."

Al spread his arms as if to showcase his office. "It's true."

"Do you have any tattoos?"

"Tattoos?" echoed Al. "No, I don't think I do."

Eva let loose a wicked grin. "I thought not. You can't be a real yakuza without a big-ass tattoo. It shows your bravery."

"Eva, as the head of this organization, I don't think it's necessary-"

Eva pulled out an ink pen and a needle. "Don't worry, I've practiced on oranges."

Al swallowed hard. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

Eva approached him undaunted. "Bend over the desk and take off your shirt."

Al winked. "Kitty, you could've asked me to do _that_ a long time ago...I rather like you taking charge, go ahead and continue...but you don't need to stay in that adult form for me, darling."

Eva wrestled his shirt off him, making him wish he'd had garlic and leeks the night before.

"Trust me," said Eva ominously. "I won't hurt you."

"Are you going to sterilize the needle? What about pain-killers? Do you have a design planned?"

"Don't care, don't care, and yes," replied Eva hazily, concentrating on the large pale canvas that was Albireo's back. "You have back hair. It's gross."

"I know..." sighed Al unhappily. His body hair was one of his greatest banes in life.

"Think of it this way- you won't have to worry about that for the next two hundred years."

Al shivered in fear. "If there any way-"

"No, you big baby. you're always going on about self-control, so grin and bear it."

Al hesitated. "I've never..."

Eva cocked her head. "Never what?"

"I've never...had a tattoo."

If Eva had been drinking something she would've had a spit-take. "Seriously?" she chortled. "_You've_ never had a tattoo? Two thousand years of existence and you've never had a _tattoo_?"

Albireo tried hi best not to blush, but failed, making him look uncharacteristically adorable. "In my defense, I've had other things going on."

Eva readied the needle. "Nothing like going in full-force. Why go with a tramp stamp when you can go for the whole package?"

Albireo gritted his teeth as Eva starting inking his back. He was certainly used to pain, but he didn't especially like needles, didn't completely trust Eva with her doubtful "design", and...

Albireo had to be honest. It was more than a mild distaste for needles: it was a deep-seated fear he'd carried with him for more than sixteen hundred years. Eva had no idea as she starting inking him that it took every ounce of effort he could muster not to tense his back, not to clench his fists, not to let out the scream that was building up inside him.

"...And that was when Dracula said...Al, are you listening?"

He found with surprise that he was _not_ listening, a very rare occurrence for him. "I'm sorry...I must've gotten lost in thought," he managed, wondering how long this tattoo was going to take.

"Whatever," mumbled Eva. "Not like it mattered."

"I really do apologize," said Al, trying to focus on something other than the awful needle in his back. "This tattoo business is a tad bit distracting."

Eva shrugged. "I guess. I have a couple myself, it didn't bother me none."

Eva resumed the process of tattooing Al's back, and he suppressed the urge to actually shed tears. It had been a very long time since pain had moved him to cry, and he wasn't about to break the trend now.

When Evangeline finally finished, she laughed quietly to herself before saying, "I think I'll do it again, just to make sure it's etched in deep enough...that okay with you?"

Al just wanted to cradle his head in his hands. "Whatever you think is best," he replied cheerily. "Someone sure likes touching me, hmm?"

She slapped his new tattoo in retaliation, and she noted with satisfaction that he flinched.

Eva finally noticed something was wrong when she put the needle close to Al's back (and new tattoo). "You're shivering. Are you cold?"

"No," he replied, his voice completely normal. "I'm fine."

Eva was suspicious now. "You're too good at lying. Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"I dislike repeating myself."

"Al, stop being a douche-bag and just 'fess up."

"Do you promise to put that awful needle away?" he asked, compromising his need for privacy.

Eva was surprised. "I guess so." She tucked it in her dress and crossed her legs, using his lap as a footstool.

"I'm not entirely fond of needles," he confessed. "They're...uncomfortable."

"Since when do _you_ find things uncomfortable?"

His tone was light, but his blue eyes were grave. "It was...absurdly long ago. I should've forgotten by now. It was so long ago that I hadn't discovered magic yet and I was just living the life of a scavenger in the forest when some boys from the nearby tribe or village stumbled across me. I was tired and had not eaten in several days so I was easy prey."

Eva suppressed her natural instinct to be snarky. It was a difficult effort for her, but Al didn't seem t be joking.

He wrung his hands together, this small physical sign of discomfort speaking just as much as the words coming out of his mouth.

"This tribe...to this day, I still don't know where I was, was very proficient in acupuncture...these boys knew how to torment others with needles, and they used me as prey..." Albireo's fingers ghosted his neck, face, and chest, the most targeted parts of his body in the attack. "They started out with the relatively painless things like fingers and eventually moved on to my eyes and mouth...it is not a pleasant memory."

"And that tattoo reminded you of that, didn't it?" said Eva quietly, feeling like a bitch.

"You had no idea. I could've said no if I'd really wanted to."

"Why don't you ever say anything when it matters, you dumbass?" she growled, her blonde hair swishing angrily.

"I guess I forget."

"Bullshit."

Al stood up suddenly. "It's been a long time. You put a lot of work into that tattoo, I'd like to see it."

"Even if needles were involved?"

"I may not like needles, but that doesn't mean I can't like the end product."

Eva rummaged in her skirt. "I think I have a mirror in here..."

"No need," Al replied, smiling. He chanted a spell quickly and a shimmering mirror reflecting his back appeared in front of them.

He clapped his hands in approval. "Eva, I didn't know you were so talented! I like it!"

She crossed her arms in begrudging pride. "I have a few kickass oranges at home." she admitted.

The tattoo was a golden dragon with painfully intricate scales breathing fire over an Oriental mountain with waves lapping at the bottom of the cliff. The dragon's scales were the color of Eva's hair and its eyes the cerulean of Albireo's eyes. The fire was also the same blue, icy and cruel. Al hoped _his _eyes weren't like that.

"I'm glad you like it," said Eva. "Since you'll be stuck with it for a while."

She retrieved a roll of bandages from who-knows-where and wrapped his sore chest.

"You were right about the hair," he remarked. "I seriously doubt it's going to grow back."

Eva was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry about the needles." she whispered, a little girl's insecurities revealing themselves.

"It's fine,"he reassured. "You have to face your fears sometime, and at least I didn't have to do that in some jungle, surrounded by tribesmen mages who think I'm the devil."

"I wish I'd asked..."

"Why? What could've possibly led you to believe I was afraid of needles? It was no fault of yours. Don't blame yourself, Evangeline."

Despite her adult, busty, figure, she looked at him with the eyes of a child. "You promise?"

He tutted, "So insecure today? I promise, Eva."

She smacked his back for good measure. "Now that you've got a decent tattoo you can be a real man, not some pansy wanna-be."

"I am already the leader of this outfit..." sighed Al.

"I could take you." pouted Eva.

"You probably could," agreed Al. "But never forget about the element of surprise."

"That's what losers say, old man."

There was a pause where Al and Eva looked at each other before Eva ran up to Al and squeezed him around the waist in a facsimile off a hug. He hugged her back, grunting slightly at the pressure on his back. Eva let go of him and grumbled. "You're not allowed to be scared, moron. You're the smart one, you're the one who comforts _me_, so suck it up and be a man for once in your life."

Al laughed at her obvious showing of her affection for him. "Thank you, Kitty. But remember, I'm only human."

He really did deserve that slap, but it hurt nonetheless.

* * *

"Nice," appraised Chisame. "Good ending line. I will admit that you know how to tell a story...on the _other _hand...what in the name of the Kentucky Derby is _wrong_ with you?"

"Excuse me?" replied Al, slightly confused.

"You've been reading books for two thousand years, and not once did you pick up on the subtleties of picking up vampires? You seem to do fine with mortal women, especially judging by your massive amounts of offspring, but you have no tact with the immortal!"

"That's not true," argued Al. "I've slept with Filius, he's immortal."

Chisame was momentarily at a loss for words. She decided to pretend she didn't hear that statement and continued regardless.

"Are you really that thick, or are you ignoring the signs? She _likes_ you, or at least she _used_ to. No wonder she moved on to Nagi, she must've been sick of waiting for your thick head to get it," raged Chisame. You're hopeless...you didn't even get it with the tattoo? That thing was so obviously about her love for you!"

"You think so?" pondered Al.

"Duh!" bellowed Chisame. "Your inexperience amazes me...I can't watch this anymore. I'm going home."

"Why?"

"To make a chart, of course."

"About what?"

"Your relationship with Eva. Men are so stupid..." Chisame stomped off, leaving Al with his tea. He wasn't upset, though.

Chisame had certainly given him plenty to think about.

* * *

What did you think? Reviews are love! :)


	13. 1871 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

You sad little failures of reviewers don't really deserve another chapter (except you, Alexander, whose real account name I have not yet memorized), but I'm giving you one anyway. For readers of Donec, the Eva chapter is taking forever, but I am working on it! :)

Enjoy! :)

* * *

"Story, story, story, story!" chanted Konoka.

"Yes, I'll tell one," said Al, a little surprised. "No need to get worked up."

"Does it upset your delicate nerves?" sneered Chisame.

"Yes," replied Al, effectively shutting her up.

Asuna pounded the table. "Shut up and start talking!"

"I'm not sure how to do that."

She blushed. "You know what I mean! Get to the story!"

"Yes, yes...I was in the American west, back in the days of the gold rush, shortly after the Civil War. Mining towns were popping up everywhere, and I decided to visit some Native Americans I had not seen for some time, so I was heading West..."

* * *

"Young ma'am? Young ma'am?" called the deep male voice.

Al was on his way to the Oregon Territory, hoping he could get there in a few weeks, when he was unexpectedly hailed down by a male voice.

"Excuse me?" answered Al politely.

"What's a young lady like yourself doing out in the wilderness like this?" asked a robust, manly voice. Albireo resisted the urge to scratch his chest, an urge that always surfaced when someone mistook him for a woman. It was borne out of the belief that, if the human who thought he was a woman saw his chest hair, they would be completely convinced otherwise. Albireo had no rival when it came to chest hair...or any kind of bodily hair. He wished it wasn't true, but those "blessed" with immortality must bear some curse, and Al personally believed his price to pay was an incredibly gross amount of body hair.

Al turned and saw a large man with a thick, curled mustache leering at him. He wore the decorated uniform of a military official, and Al wondered how many times a day the man had to clean it to keep the Western dust off it.

"Yes," replied Al, slightly testily. "I'm in somewhat of a hurry, so if you could please state your business?"

His deep voice resonated in his chest, but the military man looked only slightly surprised. This made Al wonder what kind of woman this poor man was accustomed to.

"This is a scary place for a young lady like yourself to be."

Al swore inwardly at his habit of riding sidesaddle. Riding normally was a literally a pain in the ass, especially when you literally had a pained ass- Al was coming from a brothel in Independence, Missouri.

"Why?" He let his voice rise slightly, if only to sound slightly more like a woman's. "I don't like your attitude. Woman are as good as men."

"Yes, until they get eaten by a bear out in the West." He rode alongside Al and held out his hand, which Al reluctantly shook. Again, this man wasn't surprised at Al's large, calloused hands.

"That's sexist." he muttered half-heartedly. He wasn't really interested in protesting women's rights, but he did believe in equality.

"George Armstrong Custer, at your service." said the mustached man, and Al immediately knew who he was.

"Al Imma."

"Is that short for Angelica?"

"No."

"Alberta?"

"No."

"Aloise?"

"Sadly, no. I don't think you're going to guess it."

"Alexandria?"

He didn't betray a hint of emotion. "No. It's short for Jane."

"What? _Jane?_"

"Yes."

"I give up. Why don't you put on some real clothes and come with me to town? I can get you a good meal and bed for the night."

"Is there something wrong with my clothing?" he protested, his voice growing more feminine by the word. He was wearing the bearskin of a bear he'd killed himself. He hadn't really wanted to, but the bear was absurdly angry and Native Americans were as adept at peer pressure as anyone.

"It doesn't suit a lady as yourself."

"I'll decide what suits me." replied Al snippily, but he followed Custer to the town. He wasn't one to turn down a free meal.

Just as they rode into town another group of horsemen rode alongside them.

"Colonel!" gasped one of the men. "We have a problem! Bandits are robbing a nearby wagon train!"

Custer roared in rage. "I will attack! Come, men, we will-"

"Perhaps this job is better suited to a woman," interrupted Al sweetly. "I'll be back presently."

And he rode off, urging his horse quietly to speed up. He galloped to catch up with the bandits, and when he did, he promptly whooped their asses without even using a weapon, knocking every one of them out with a well-placed hand strike. It was unbearably easy, and Custer rode up just as Al was finishing up.

"You...did it?" he asked in shock.

"Yes. I'm quite a strong woman."

"I would have to agree and insist you accompany me to dinner tonight, Miss Jane. I might almost say you have a knack for calming calamity."

"If you so wish it, I will. But not out of affection for you, out of the palate of my stomach, understand?" he said honestly.

Custer had the audacity to look offended. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"What have you done to prove otherwise? In my world you need to prove your worth. A military uniform does not make a man."

"I like my girl with a little spunk," winked Custer.

"Is that what you told your wife when you married her?" asked Al, smiling.

Custer looked understandably shocked, but recovered quickly. "Is that what you heard? So you do know me."

"I'm the kind of woman who can be won over by good food, _George_, so get your ass to it."

The dinner was surprisingly good, and Al tipped the hassled and harassed waitresses generously, with struck Custer as odd, he was sure. He ignored Custer's mindless chatter for the most part, occasionally injecting with a meaningless eloquent statement. Custer probably thought he was being ladylike, although Al was really just being bored.

Finally, at the end of the dinner, Custer insisted that he pay for Al's room, although he was perfectly capable of paying for it himself and honestly would rather he was still on his horse heading west.

He walked Al to his room, who was getting the uncomfortable feeling that Custer was going to expect something out of this night. True to his gut, Custer followed him in, shutting the door with a leer.

"Look, Colonel Custer, I-"

"You can call me General," smirked Custer, winding his way around Al.

"No, I can call you dead," growled Al. "I suggest you get off me."

Custer toyed with the buttons on Al's shirt. "I can show you a night of calamity, Jane."

"I'd rather you-would you please stop?"

Custer let his hand slip down to Al's ass, which Al did have to admit _was_ rather ample.

Custer ripped off Al's shipped, revealing a hard, flat chest covered in thick, blue chest hair.

"Unless you swing a completely different way," grinned Albireo, putting his hands in his pockets and letting his voice return to its natural gravelly tones. "I'd suggest you drop this silly notion of 'having your way' with me. Really, what would your wife say, you stupid brute?"

"Y-You're a man?" stuttered Custer.

"Yes, and a rather annoyed one. When a woman says stop, you _stop_." Al put a hand to his chest, mocking Custer in the most ladylike way. "_Really_, how _like_ a military man. So _violent_," he drawled. "Be glad I'm not cutting off your balls. Go home and have sex with your wife."

He pulled his shirt back up and left the room, his mind lost in thought. He really did need to get out to the Indians..._although_...he _did_ rather like the moniker Calamity Jane. He might use that again sometime.

* * *

"You look like a girl," said Chisame flatly, slamming her hands on the table.

Al looked up from his tea, mildly startled. "Yes, I'm aware."

"Androgyny isn't fair to the rest of us cosplayers."

"What?"

"You look like a girl! Do you know how many hikiko mori would die for that? Nerdy men and women all over the globe would swoon over you, and you don't even realize your potential!"

"...I'm...sorry?"

"I'm going to make you cosplay," growled Chisame threateningly. "Whether you like it or not."

"That sounds...worrying."

"It should!"

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it." smirked Al.

"Good! ...Wait, what?"

"I've dressed up as a woman numerous times in my life, more than once for an extended period of time."

"Name one," challenged Chisame.

"I spent twelve years as a nun in what is now Austria," replied Al seriously. "I was never found out. There's a statue of me there if you're ever in the area."

Chisame literally face-palmed at the ludicrous reality that was Albireo Imma's past.

"Who's Calamity Jane?" asked Asuna bluntly.

"An American folk hero," answered Konoka. "She fought with Custer and-oh, that was _you?_"

Al smiled. "I never fought with Custer, but yes. I took that name for several years and fought in many fire-fights. It was great fun."

"_You_ were a cowboy?" said Asuna in disbelief.

"Not in the strictest sense of the word, no, but I get your drift..." sniffed Al. "I'm surprised you knew who Calamity Jane was, Konoka-chan."

"Me too," chirped Konoka. "We all surprise ourselves sometimes, right?"

Al smiled earnestly. "Very true. See you tomorrow?"

They all nodded.

"You bet your ass," muttered Chisame.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing!" sang Chisame, hurrying out with the others.

Al was glad to have his trio of teenagers, he really was.

* * *

Rarrr. Reviews are love. :)


	14. 852 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

Hello! I have the whole fanfiction done now, so i'm just uploading chapters when I fell like it. XP Seeing as I have it done, I won't be able to take requests, but I will take commissions! :) Altohugh not about al and history...I've written _too many_ of those.

Enjoy! :

* * *

"Hey, we haven't heard chibi-master's name in a while! Where's Zecht been all this time?" demanded Asuna.

"...All this time? Do you mean in history?"

"Yeah, that. What's he been up to?"

Chisame and Konoka leaning in, dying to know. Al smirked. "I met him plenty of times over the centuries, but those talks wouldn't interest you..."

"Yes, they would!" chorused the girls.

"That's nice, did you practice that?" asked Al.

"Only a little," grinned Konoka. "It was pretty good, huh?"

"Yes, I'd say so. Hmm...most of the time Filius and I sparred and talked, and those talks were private, but there has to be something...ah, I have it."

The girls leaned forward in eagerness.

"It was sometime in the eighth century, when I was exploring the recesses of the magic world for the first time. It was all rather exciting, especially when I unexpectedly stumbled across Filius Zecht in a remote outpost..."

* * *

Albireo flipped the page of his book nonchalantly, his eyes trained on the pages as he navigated his way through the tiny village of Elfanbaft, enjoying the flowiness of his new robes, which he'd had specially made to be comfortable instead of rough. He'd made a mint off a fortune telling business he'd had in the Old World recently and was enjoying the benefits. He was trying to collect money in every currency so he'd be financially safe no matter what. It was useless, really, as he'd outlive every currency, but it gave him something to whittle away the time doing.

He was deep in his book when he bumped right into someone small. Assuming it was a child, he looked down, smiling, then realized it was Filius.

It had been over two hundred years since the first time they'd met, when Filius had straightened Albireo out and taught him how to live, not just exist. They'd met several times since then, usually briefly, although once in a while they would spend months, even years, in each others' company. Although a bit startling, it was no _huge_ surprise to run into him, even in these backwaters.

"Albireo Imma," greeted Filius tonelessly, using his full name as always. "I did not know you considered yourself one of us."

Albireo hummed in response. "I'm not sure what you mean, Filius."

"Don't you know?" asked Filius, the slightest hint of surprise in his voice.

"Know what?" Albireo hated feeling ignorant, and he pocketed his book to talk to Filius.

"There's a meeting of demons tonight. I have been asked to attend as one of the highest rank."

Al smirked. "You're being modest, aren't you? You're probably hosting it, aren't you?"

"Something like that," replied Filius, no humor in his voice. If Filius thought something was funny you had to look in his eyes to tell. "What a coincidence to see you of all people here."

"I felt strangely drawn here," admitted Al. "And I've lived long enough to know that I should obey my instincts."

Filius raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. "An immortal human is somewhat of a demon, am I correct? I do not think you would be so out of place. If your spirit was drawn here then you must be one of us. It is not up to me or any other to question the hearts of others."

"Is that an invitation, Filius?"

"You may consider it that."

"What happens at these demon meetings?"

Filius got a faraway look in his eyes, which were dark and deep and full of shadows and broken promises. "It is not describable. All demons, regardless of their past or personal feelings, join together for one night of revelry, accepting everything about themselves and each other."

"Sounds like an orgy."

Filius granted him a very rare smile. "That's later in the night."

Albireo thought about it briefly. "I'll be there."

* * *

It was early in the night. The sun had just set, and the woods were bathed in an eerie glow. Humans would be home in their huts, fearfully falling asleep, knowing that demons relished in nights like this.

He found Filius on the edge of the woods, completely naked. This did not unduly bother Al, although he found it unusual. He had never seen Filius naked before, and it interested him to see that Filius's privates were completely smooth, as though when he'd been created his creator had not cared to construct those parts of him.

"Demons do not conform to human standards, not on this night." said Filius, answering Al's unsaid question.

Al accordingly untied the chord on his new robe and dropped it onto the ground without a moment's hesitation. He understood what Filius meant, and knew that he was only a tag-a-long here. He was an extra, unneeded and unmissed, but that would not stop him from enjoying this night. It would help him enjoy it even more.

When they reached the clearing for the demon gathering, Albireo was greeted with the sight of hundreds of demons milling about. There was no violence, and as far as Al could tell, no words being spoken. The only communication was non-verbal, and the air with thick with magic. There were shadows above him that gave him chills, shadows that belonged to demons too ancient and powerful to consider taking an earthly form. Many demons were in their natural state, large and imposing, while the humanoid demons were silent, and there were those among the human ones that scared Albireo the most.

Filius waved his hands to draw the attention of the demons, and started speaking in a low, guttural tongue that Albireo did not understand. He got the impression that no one there understood it, not even Filius himself. It was a language that communicated through its sheer complexity and indecipherability.

A race of demons stepped forward. They were dark-skinned with horns, and all of them had a human woman's form. The danced in unison, the first in a long line of demons to present themselves at this gathering.

The night went by in a whirlwind of activity. Albireo's senses began to overload, the heavy perfume's dark odor combining with the moonless night and chanting and dancing and pure senseless obeying of the body's most primal wants and needs drained him, putting his mind in a deep haze. He knew he would not remember much in the morning and that it would take years to completely decipher what was happening, but he met hundreds of demons, dancing with them as though he were one of them. And he supposed he was, because he was not a human, and if you weren't a human what could you be but a demon?

Albireo still wasn't entirely sure what happened that night. He remembered kissing and chanting and bare feet on soft grass, remembered pressing closer to Filius, binding their very souls together in a way that he could never describe, acts of passion and flashes of emotion that he could never describe properly, and the feeling that he had changed, that a fundamental part of his being had shifted just by being there. That night he changed from being an immortal human on the edge of humanity to a demon with the humanity of a mortal.

Filius Zecht had changed Albireo Imma's life twice. First he taught him how to be human, and then he taught him how to forget humanity.

If Filius found it ironic, he never said anything. But that's how Filius was- a stoic, unfriendly demon who secretly possessed more humanity than anyone.

* * *

The end of Al's story was greeted with a round of applause.

"A little short," grumbled Chisame. "We're not getting our money's worth."

"Quality over quality," replied Al pleasantly. "I'm afraid that's my policy."

Konoka bounced up and down. "I didn't know Zecht-dono was so important! Much more important than my father..."

"Yes, pretty much," agreed Asuna. "Did you get high or drunk or something at that party? It sounded like it."

Al laughed sheepishly. "In a way. Although I have the mind of an immortal, my body is human flesh and bone, so it didn't quite hold up the whole time. I spent the three weeks after that bedridden, with an unlucky Filius to take care of me."

"How adorable..." cooed Konoka.

"You may also be interested to know that that was the night that Jack Rakan's great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather was conceived," added Al teasingly.

There was a terrified silence.

"You don't mean..." whispered Asuna.

"It can't be..." gasped Konoka.

"No, no, no, no," shouted Chisame. "That's too convenient! This is all too convenient! How could he be related to you like that? The man is as big as an elephant and, no offense, but is so dark he makes you blend in the the wall, Sanders, so don't give me that crap! It's not believable! Any novel or manga worth it's salt knows better than to use a plot twist like that! C'mon, you're better than that!"

Al sighed, still smiling. "Regretfully, it's true. I'm sorry if that upsets you. You always _were_ genre savvy..."

Chisame clenched her fist. "I'd punch you in the face if it's prettiness wasn't soon going to be utilized for cosplay."

"Ah...I'm not entirely sure what that means still?" Al awkwardly cleared his throat.

Konoka and Asuna crept out as Chisame raved and ranted about the pros and cons and rules of cosplay while Al sat there trying to remember how many kids he'd had. She wasn't descended from him, was she? And if she was, who the hell did she get these traits from? Although...it attested to how lonely Al must be to agree to wear pigtails for the cosplay he was apparently doing.

Humans were _weird._

* * *

Reviews are love! :)


	15. 1344 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- i don't own Negima.

New chapter! Smiliey face! You know the drill! Thank you for all your support, guys. And girls. And others.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

"Hey, Colonel-han?" asked Konoka curiously.

"Yes?"

"Did you meet any legends? People that we think are real, but we're not sure? Because that would be cool..."

"Legends...King Arthur was one, long ago. That was a very interesting time, full of battles...and Robin Hood. I think you might like to hear that tale," decided Al. "It's a good one."

"Awesome!" announced Asuna. "Prop me up if I get sleepy, Chisame-chan."

"Me?" replied Chisame, disgusted. "Why me?"

"Because you're closer. Slap me if I doze off."

"Gladly."

"Meanie!"

"You're the one who said it!"

"Maybe we should start the story?" suggested Konoka.

"Yes, that sounds like a plan," agreed Al. "It was a very long time ago, and I had just faked my death, as I was rather tired of being King...when I mean King, I mean Richard the Lionhearted..."

* * *

Al strolled through the woods, whistling merrily. He was relatively unarmed, save for a bow, arrows, a sword, a small dagger, two pocketknives, and three magical charms (you should see him when he _was_ armed) and he felt fairly happy. He'd had no stupid adventures lately, just midnight trysts with women all over the world, wooing his way to satisfaction. It was a very asinine, carnal, way to achieve happiness, but Al justified it by spending the daytime hours reading and studying.

He nearly stepped on a scraggily-haired young man kneeling in the grass and had to backtrack momentarily. "Hello?" he asked, hoping that this man wouldn't start brandishing a weapon, as they so often did.

The boy jumped up. "Oh," said the boy, grinning sloppily. "Sorry. I was tracking a deer."

Al chuckled. "I know nothing of your tracking skills, but you had your nose in the dirt like a dog, so you may well have one's nose."

"Thank...you?" replied the boy, furrowing his brow as if trying to remember something. Then he gasped, his thick brown eyebrows rising like caterpillars. "Blue hair, blue eyes, feminine appearance, archaic way of talking...could you be...King Richard?"

Al was taken aback. "You must be a believer in the extraordinarily supernatural, child. That is a considerably large assumption for you to make."

The boy blushed. "S-Sorry, sir, you just reminded of a great man my father used to tell me about. My grandfather actually _met_ him."

"King Richard the Lionhearted?"

"Yes, sir. My father used to say that _his_ father was there when he 'died', but grandfather said he never actually saw Richard die. No one did. They never found his body, either. Grandfather thought he was still alive."

Albireo scratched his unshaved chin. "You deserve a reward for your intuition, so I will tell you the truth. I was indeed Richard the Lionhearted, although no one has called me by that name in over fifty years."

"Then you are a ghost?" breathed in the boy in awe.

"No, but I am not entirely human."

"Wow...what's your name? Should I call you Richard?"

"I go by..." Al hesitated, thinking of a name. "Marion. I go by Marion now."

The boy snickered despite himself. "A girl's name?"

"That is relative."

"My name is Robin Fitzooth. Isn't that stupid?"

"Rather, yes." agreed Al.

"You're the one with a girl's name!" retorted Robin.

"You were one who said it was stupid in the first place."

"...Shut up."

"What are you doing in these woods? They _are_ rather dangerous."

Robin puffed out his chest. "I'm hunting."

"You'll get in trouble." said Al mildly.

"Not animals," smirked Robin. "People."

"You're hunting people? I wasn't aware there were cannibals in this area. Well, I'm not one to judge others..."

Robin blushed. "That's not what I meant! I'm hunting the Sheriff of Nottingham."

"The Sheriff?" repeated Al. "I'm curious. Why?"

"Because he is unjust, and the world must be brought to peace!" proclaimed Robin.

Al raised a blue eyebrow. "That's quite noble of you."

"I want to be a hero!" Robin pumped a fist in the air.

"Is that all?" asked Albireo, who had seen so many wanna-be heroes die in his time that he felt almost no sympathy or hope for this young fellow.

Robin lowered his arm and shrugged, eyes downcast. "The Sheriff is a bad dude, you know? No one has the courage to stand up to him. I figure if I do, I can help all the people less fortunate than me. It may seen presumptuous, but why not? No one else is doing it."

"That's a good outlook on life, young man. It seems not all mortals are the same. I think I might accompany you on your quest."

"Who _are_ you?" marveled Robin.

Al smiled ominously. "Think of me as your fairy godmother."

"...That's really gay."

"Shut up."

* * *

"There it is! Can I go kill him? Please go let me kill him!"

"Shut up, Robin."

"He's right there! I wanna get him. Go get him, fairy godmother! Go!"

"Shut up, Robin."

"Get 'em, sock 'em, kill his brutally! No torture is bad enough for him."

"_Shut up, Robin._"

"Whoops, sorry," Robin bounced up and down, slightly disturbing the brush around them. "You think we'll get him? Do you really think we'll get the Sheriff today?"

"You never know," said Al mysteriously, holding the bow and arrows he'd retrieved out of Robin's reach. That boy really thought that killing the Sheriff was a first-class idea (it probably was, but Albireo wasn't going to condone a young boy turning into a murderer), and Al was going to show his how tough life as an outlaw was going to be. Or something like that, Albireo didn't really have a plan. He was basically there because he was bored.

The Sheriff's coach approached, and Al wrinkled his nose at its primitive design. The Magic World was so much more advanced...he'd be sure to thank Filius later.

Robin positively bristled with excitement. "Can I? This is awesome!"

"Aim at his driver."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Robin shook his head quickly, eyes wide with surprise. "Why would I do that? The drover didn't do anything."

"In order to stop the carriage you'd need to take out the driver, therefore confusing the horses. You could attack in the moment of confusion. Although attacking the horses would do too..."

"But..." whined Robin. "I _like_ horses!"

"You want to be an outlaw, don't you? An outlaw does what he has to."

Robin clamped his lips together, his fists clenched and shaking. Al watched his teenage brain wrestle with some oddly ingrained morals, probably instilled in him by his father, and him by his father, who had learned them from Albireo, at the time under the guise of King Richard.

"Then i'll change what an outlaw is!" proclaimed Robin. "I'll be a new type of outlaw! I'll fight for justice and good and bring peace to those less fortunate!"

Al placed at caring hand on the boy's shoulder. "As your liege, I name you..." Al thought of a name and stumbled across one while thinking of his favorite type of clothing. "...Robin Hood. I pray for your destiny to be fulfilled."

Pompous sounding words, but Al seriously doubted Robin Hood would ever amount to anything. Another forgotten boy lost in history's make-it-or-break-it world. Albireo decided that _he_ at least would remember who he was, if only to keep the child's existence in living memory.

* * *

Chisame chortled with laughter. "Damn, you were wrong. Robin Hood's so freakin' famous it's not even funny."

"You're laughing," pointed out Al.

"Stop being so literal," muttered Chisame somewhat hypocritically. "Jerk."

"Robin sounds so adorable!" squealed Konoka.

"Totally," agreed Asuna. "More adorable than Negi."

"Awww...that's mean," reprimanded Konoka. "And untrue. Negi's so adorable."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Not."

"Too!"

"Shut up, Konoka!"

"I'm gonna tell Secchan!"

Chisame patted Al on the head. "See you tomorrow, old-timer. Sorry you had to witness this."

"You should see the bicentennial meeting of the immortals," sighed Al. "Exactly like this...they never _can_ let go of a grudge..."

"Er..." replied Chisame awkwardly. "Yeah. Sure. See you soon, weirdo."

"That's my middle name." he retorted.

She surprised to the urge to ask if that was true.

* * *

Reviews are love! :)


	16. 1677 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

I wrote this one some time ago and waited to post it becuase I want...I don't really know. XP

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

"Soooooooooooo..." said Konoka, drawing out every syllable.

"What?" snapped Chisame irritably.

"Got any ideas?" muttered Asuna. Living in all-girl dorms like they did, menstrual cycles were locked on sync, and all three girls were suffering.

"Yes," beamed Al, the picture of sunshine while they grouched. "You seemed to like the last Evangeline story, so how about another?"

"Yeah..."

"Sure..."

"Pink Pineapple..."

They all looked at Chisame. She half-shrugged, not even putting the effort in to do it completely. "It's a anime porn company."

"What about it?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking out loud."

Al clapped his hands in a facsimile of Konoka's usual happiness, and she gave him a rare glare.

"Off we go then! It was the seventeenth century, and I was in a bit of a slump due to the usual pressing issues that bother me, like whether or not I'm ever going to die and if I do whether or not I'm going to go to hell, since I've lived longer and accumulated more sins...the usual. I was sleeping on an unused part of the road when Evangeline found me and decided to make me aware of her presence in her usual charming way..."

* * *

Al was abruptly forced out of his deep sleep by large bit of flesh repeatedly hitting him in the face. If he wasn't mistaken, it felt like a foot. It hurt. It hurt _a lot_, but Al wasn't sure if it was enough to make him want to move.

"Get up, you lazy pervert!" shrieked a shrill voice in his ear.

He grumbled something in Arabic and then realized he was in Europe. For some reason he found this very amusing indeed and groggily giggled his delight. He was awarded with a kick.

"Oh, shut up," he slurred, his mouth not quite working properly. "Go away. Don' wanna buy anything."

"Are you..._drunk_?"

Al waved a hand dismissively. "Tha's what they all say."

"You _are_ drunk!" gasped the annoying blonde standing over him. "You're such a hypocrite."

Al let out a noise that was neither an affirmative or a negative. It wasn't really much of a sound at all, just a jumbled mishmash of syllables put together to express his annoyance.

He was blessed with yet another kick.

"Hey," said Eva, for of course it was she. "What happened to your _face_?" He assumed she was referring to the thick burn scars on the left side of his face, which were just starting to fade away.

"Hakuna matata." mumbled Al sleepily.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not a very smart African."

"I'm going to murder you." said Eva blandly, and this statement woke Al up a little bit.

"Really? Cool. I was burned at the stake jut a few years ago. What fun, what fun..."

"You have issues."

"Who doesn't?"

Eva grabbed him by the filthy shirt he was wearing. "Look, I want a power up, so I need you to get undrunk and normal in about five seconds."

Al winked blearily. "I know where_ I _can get in five seconds."

He would never regret an innuendo, no matter the pain it caused him in the long run.

He was forcibly dragged down the street, his face getting a fill of dirt and rocks and the natural grime of the ground. Eva wasn't gentle about it, and he could feel streaks of blood dripping down his face as she dragged him. It was slowly pulling him out of his stupor, although if he wasn't immortal he would've died of alcohol poisoning weeks ago.

She dumped him unceremoniously in a large forest clearing and pointed to the ground. "Teach me gravity magic."

"Don' wanna."

"You son of a bitch!" she growled, kicking him roughly. "Get up, you ass."

"Wan' be drunk."

"I'll buy you beer if you fight me."

"I have money."

She kicked him so hard that he heard a rib crack. "You pitiful excuse for a mage, get up."

He waved at hand at her blearily, and she promptly reached over and snapped his wrist. He cradled it to his chest and writhed on the ground a little.

"Is that an incentive?"

He muttered a spell at lazily blasted it at her, and she easily dodged it. "What is your fucking problem?" she growled.

"Swearin' ain't becoming of a lady..."

He was rewarded with another rib-cracking kick.

She eventually got him to fight her through extortion and threats, and he half-heartedly shot gravity balls and other magic at her, wishing she would just leave him alone.

"Fight me like a man!" she roared.

He rubbed the scars on his face tiredly and mumbled incoherently.

She managed to completely immobilize him through his inattentiveness and apathy, and she approached him gleefully on as he lay there on the ground, wishing he the sky would suddenly open and pour out whiskey.

"Why won't you fight me?"

Her voice was cracked and upset, and he propped his head up on the ground, spitting out a little blood. "Kitty?"

"Am I not good enough to warrant a real fight?" she sobbed.

If she wasn't the size of a ten year old he would have assumed she was on her period, because he was currently wallowing in misery, bleeding out of at least three of his orifices and had most of his ribs cracked or broken. If she wasn't strong he didn't know what strong was.

"What?" rasped Al.

"WHY WON'T YOU FIGHT ME?" She blasted two hundred volts of magical lightning into him, and his blacked out for at least a minute. When he resurfaced, she was still crying.

"Eva..." he croaked.

"WHAT?"

"It's not you...I'm just..."

"WHAT?"

"I'm just drunk...it has nothing to do with you."

Eva's expression softened. "You're an idiot."

He smiled in response, and she kicked him softly, her version of affection. Al was glad to see that she had stopped crying, and worried about her whiplash of emotions. That couldn't be healthy.

Suddenly she was helping him up, which was nice, but he staggered around and fell over.

"Oh.." she said, realizing that she had beaten him soundly. "Are you gonna die?"

"No...I'm still drunk."

She rolled her eyes and he slumped over her shoulder.

"You smell nasty."

"Thank you."

"Your breath is bad too."

"How sweet."

"I'll take you to this shop I know. They have a liqueur that makes your breath smell good."

"You're a softie, Ev-"

She pressed his face into the grass, and his bones screamed in protest.

"You were saying?"

"...Ow."

She started bandaging his wounds and commented, "I did a good job on your face. You look like a ripe melon."

"That's a nice thought," he mumbled. His mouth felt thick and swollen, and he pressed it gingerly. "You're very strong."

"Then why wouldn't you teach me your magic?"

"You're more than capable of developing your own. You're much more powerful than I am. You can learn things on your own, while I had to depend on others to teach me. It took me hundreds of years to reach where you are now." His mouth hurt, and he wished he hadn't said so much.

"Oh. I thought it was 'cause you were drunk."

"That was mostly it."

"Jerk."

She started to lift the dirty shirt off of Al but gave up and ripped it off to bandage his ribs. "When was the last time you bathed?"

"Dunno."

"You used to be more eloquent."

"I suppose I was. But how can I be eloquent in the face of such magnanimous pain?"

"Shut up."

"You know you love me."

Evangeline was silent, and Al swallowed painfully. Had he said something wrong? He didn't usually worry about what he said, but grudges could last a long time between immortals.

"Only a little."

She never did explain what she meant by that.

* * *

"You're an idiot," sighed Asuna. "A big fat idiot. Trust me, it takes one to know one."

Chisame nodded, her arms crossed. "You have issues. No wonder she hates you so much, you didn't take the bait. You're not much of a man."

"If I had feeling's they'd be hurt," he replied. "What do you mean?"

"She liked you!" exclaimed Konoka.

"You think so?" he asked, taken aback. "I thought she was joking."

"Idiot..." repeated Asuna doggedly.

"Were you really drunk?" asked Konoka.

"Very," shrugged Al. "It wasn't my best century."

"She liked you even though you were a hopeless drunk," moaned Chisame. "Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless...you deserve every punch she throws at you...and don't get drunk, it's gross. I thought you'd know better."

"That was 500 years ago. I'm not like that anymore."

"Why'd you tell us that story?" wondered Asuna.

Konoka smiled. "It was to ask us what she meant, wasn't it? You didn't know, so you had to ask, but you couldn't just do that, so this was your way?"

Al sipped his tea, embarrassed to admit that she was right.

"Loser," grumbled Chisame. "It took you 500 years to find someone to ask?"

"Romance moves slower at an immortal level," deduced Konoka correctly. "But what about Nagi? I thought Eva loved him."

"Exactly," replied Al. "So I figured it meant we were friends."

"Nagi wasn't even _alive_ 500 years ago," protested Chisame. "In that time she probably got over you and moved on. But Nagi will die eventually, and then you can make your move."

"He hasn't said he wants to make his move!" argued Asuna. "He didn't say he liked her in the first place."

"It's obvious! He acts like a kindergartner around her!" retorted Chisame.

"I think it's mutual," added Konoka. "But Albireo-han will never take it seriously enough for anything to happen."

As Albireo watched them argue over his love life he had only one thought.

He wanted a drink.

* * *

Reviews are love! :)


	17. 1120 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

Jerkfaces. Thank you, Sandanio and michaluna, for reviewing. The rest of you go to dark place under all of us where Satan pokes people with pitchforks. That's right, my basement.

This is actually one of my favorite chapters. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I waited until after my birthday to post it cause you guys are jerkfaces. Enjoy, assholes.

* * *

"What's the most extreme thing that's happened to you because of love?" asked Konoka, Chamo sleeping peacefully on her shoulder.

"The most _extreme_ thing?" repeated Al, thinking. "That's easy."

"What is it? You're probably a sappy romantic at the core, right?" asked Chisame saucily.

"What, like you?" snarked Asuna, sparking a cat-fight between the two.

"It was around the turn of the first millennium, and I was well-known as a philosopher...the trouble all started when I started tutoring a young girl named Heloise..."

* * *

"Oh, Peter," sighed Heloise. "You know I love you, but this isn't proper...you can't really be suggesting that we marry...you know I should get to a nunnery."

"Dearest," replied Al, secretly wishing she _would_ get her ass to a nunnery. "Marry me. We'll say the baby was premature. The heathens around us can't count anyway. We'll be fine, just trust me."

"But...it's lying." Heloise turned the big, blue eyes that had seduced him in the first place towards him.

"Sometimes you have to lie in order to protect those you love," pleaded Al. "Put your faith in me and marry me, darling. We'll be happy."

"You always go on so many trips...do don't have another women there, do you?" She toyed with the ribbons on his obscenely girly tunic.

He couldn't very well admit the truth, that she was completely right, and not only had another women but several (including running several brothels in Rome), so he laughed and denied the claim. "I would never do something like that. I'm not that kind of man. I love you, darling."

"I know..." sighed Heloise happily. "You're the best man a woman could ever had. You're manlier than anyone."

Famous last words. If Albireo had known what he did now, he probably would've stuffed those words right back down her throat.

* * *

"Peter Abelard."

Albireo's eyes slid over to his veranda. Who was calling him? They _were_ calling for him, right? He'd had so many names he couldn't remember anymore.

"Or should I say..._Albireo Imma_?" said the voice spitefully.

Yep, that was him.

"I've put up half a dozen tri-fold barriers around this room. I'd like to see even you get out of this one."

Shit. A mage, and a good one too.

The man strode over to his bed, a malicious grin on his face. He was quite handsome, especially for the unwashed barbarians of the day. Albireo would do him.

The mage pulled an old knife out of his belt, swinging it around playfully. "Just try to get out of that bed. I've spent the last ten years perfecting a spell that would hold the infamous Playboy of Tempe Terra."

Al winced. He knew that would come back to haunt him some day.

The man's eyebrow twitched. "I've waited so long for this opportunity...and lo and behold, a help wanted poster for an assassin to perform a very special task. And whose face was on the poster but you? Your handsome mug hasn't changed one bit."

"Thank you," managed Al, hoping they would get it over with and kill him quickly.

The man's face took on a maniacal expression. "I may have been hired by Heloise's uncle to do this, but trust me, I'm very compliant. Finally, a chance to get revenge! My life was ruined because of you! My father left because of you! It's all your fault!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about..."

"Don't deny it," growled the man. "Don't you remember? Ten years ago you blew through Tempes and impregnated _every single women_? You don't remember?"

"Oh, now I do. I most certainly know what you're talking about," laughed Al nervously. He didn't like the look of that knife.

"You got my mother and _all three of my sisters_ pregnant in the course of a week! In_ one week_ you impregnated over four hundred women! Because of you my father left us and my mother had twins! Two more siblings and three nephews in nine months!"

"It's not _my_ fault their menstrual cycles were linked..." protested Al weakly. "I have strong sperm!"

The knife edged closer to him. "Watch it," snarled the man, who Al decided to nickname Tom. "Don't push your luck. I know who you are. Killing you won't do you any good. I'm going to make you _suffer_."

Al couldn't help it, he continued to argue his case. "All the midwives in the area must've had loads of business."

"No," said Tom through gritted teeth. "They were _pregnant_."

"Oh," squeaked Al.

Al noticed with horror that the knife was not creeping toward his throat, but rather, another area of his body.

Al made one last point. "If you remember, I donated two million drachma to your village for the welfare of the village."

"It's a good thing you did, because all the men left their wives that year."

"They're the ones who cheated."

Tom grinned gleefully. "On the order of Heloise's uncle, who apparently doesn't have a name, I happily carry out the order to prevent you from ever having another child."

"...No." denied Al. He flat-out denied it. Tom had to be joking. Even this man couldn't be that cruel...right?

Albireo summoned every bit of magic he had in his arsenal, only to discover that it had all been sealed. He really wished he was a light sleeper right about then. He was going to learn to be better at defensive spells. He really must've been slacking off lately. "Have mercy..." he pleaded.

"This was born of your own carelessness," reminded Tom. "If you had taken proper precautions you could've easily taken me out. I'm no match for you in a fair fight. No one is."

He reached over and undid the tie on Albireo's pants. Albireo kicked out at him. "A man has to ask before he takes off _my_ pants," winked Al, hoping this man had repressed sexual tension.

Tom made a face. "The rumors are true, you'll do it with anything that moves. Wow...I see why all the women fell for you. You have a very proud specimen there."

"I'd like to keep it." said Al, his smile grim. He was going to shut up and take this like a man. After all, he _was_ guilty of the accused "crimes".

"We'd all like many things," replied Tom. "But the world doesn't work like that. One last thing: this knife is rusty, so this might take a while."

Albireo Imma was a lot of things. He was a fighter and a lover, a partaker of the finer things in life, a scholar, and a great man. But there is no man so great that he doesn't cry when his penis is cut off with a rusty knife. _No one _is that strong. Albireo would forever remember this and his own personal hell- his hazy memories of it consisted of lots of pain, screaming, and blood everywhere.

So, _so_ much blood.

* * *

"I'm afraid I have to leave you, Heloise."

Al fidgeted uncomfortably, the bandages woven tightly around his crotch chafing. It took all he had to around normally only a few weeks after the Incident (as Albireo had taken to calling it). After he'd managed to staunch the bleeding and incapacitate Tom (whose real name was apparently Ryuuji Theodora Alois Copernicus Weasley) he'd stumbled off for medical attention. He knew off a monastery that treated odd injuries, no questions asked. He'd regained some of his magic and decided to punish Tom by charming his hair away and turning his penis permanently bright pink. He couldn't bring himself to harming the man further, as Albireo really couldn't blame him, although that didn't stop him from being tempted to wring Tom's neck.

"Why?" cried Heloise, wringing her pretty hands. "My uncle told me that he threatened you, but that shouldn't be enough to send you running! What about the baby?"

Albireo handed her a thick wad of bills. "I'll send you that much every month," he informed her. "I'll still take care of you."

"Where will you go?"

"I'm joining a monastery." confessed Al, who was going to spend the next fifteen years or so regrowing his penis, as Tom had taken it along as a trophy, and he couldn't just reattach it.

"But...why?" sobbed Heloise. Al felt bad, and drew her in for a hug. She clutched at his shoulder, putting her weight on him. He nearly cried himself, as Heloise had unintentionally rubbed herself on his crotch.

"Heliose..." he croaked. "I'm sorry." He took her delicate hand and drew it to his groin, where she could feel his genitals, or rather his lack of them. The horror he felt was reflected in her eyes.

"My uncle did this, didn't he?" she whispered. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine," he reassured, although things were most certainly not fine. "I'll live."

"But...your manhood!"

"You don't need manhood to become a monk."

"I'll become a nun!" she proclaimed. "I will suffer with you!"

He embraced her again, wishing with all his heart that he had never met this stupid women. Love was overrated.

He cradled her face in his hands. "Darling...I'll write."

* * *

The girls just stared at him, their innocent eyes wide with shock.

"You got four hundred women pregnant?" asked Konoka, her eyes sparkling with an odd mischief.

"High five!" offered Chamo, raising a paw. Al daintily gave him a high five.

"Yes...it was one of my less fertile periods." admitted Al.

"_Less_ fertile?" repeated Asuna, still in shock.

Chisame jumped to her feet. "That's not the problem here! The problem is that you wre _castrated_! Dude, didn't that _hurt_?"

"Yes," nodded Al unhappily. "A lot, actually. Very painful. Thought I was going to bleed out."

"Don't you _care_?"

"Well, it was nine hundred years ago," pointed out Al. "That's a long time."

Chisame shivered. "I'm a chick, and _I_ can feel the pain. And you were a douche to Heloise, cheating on her like that."

"It was a more than one women world," shrugged Al. "I wasn't a great man back then. Besides, she was needy."

"You're such a dick. Good thing, 'cause you didn't have one!" yelled Chisame, dragging the others with her. Chamo jumped off Konoka and stayed for tea.

"I wonder where I went wrong..." pondered Al, honestly confused.

Chamo rolled his eyes.

* * *

Reviews are love. I don't love you. :)


	18. 352 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't Negima.

New chapter! Thank you for your reviews! Before now, I have always alternated chapters between points in history and interactions with Filius or Eva, but as I am almost out of the latter and I'm saving that chapter, you're getting this, which is also fairly interesting.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

Asuna walked in whistling a Christmas tune, and Al joined in merrily.

"My, is it already that time of year?" he asked. "I seem to lose track of time."

"That's pretty sad," commented Chisame. "You're so out of touch. When was the last time you saw it snow?"

"Snow? A long time. But that doesn't bother me. I never liked the cold much."

Konoka sighed. "And I thought you were a romantic, Albireo-han. Don't you see the beauty in the cold weather?"

"I see no beauty in frostbite," chuckled Al. "Although...a very long time ago, I _did_ help others appreciate the cold in some small way...I say that, but it was _them_ who helped _me_ in the long run."

"Oooooh," cooed Konoka. "Sounds juicy. Spill!"

"It was a very long time ago, about 1700 years back...as I have said before, I was not the man you know now...and it was winter, the coldest winter anyone had seen for a very long time."

* * *

Albireo pulled his furs around him, slouching over on the snowy ground. He didn't like the cold, but it didn't matter to him if he caught cold and died...nothing mattered. He felt icy tears prick at his eyes. He wished he could just _die_.

There were children playing in snow a few feet away, and he watched their shadows and wondered how long their fleeting lives would last. Humanity was just a shadow on the Earth, lingering no more than a few frozen seconds.

He eventually stood, no idea where to go. He brushed ice out of his hair and eyebrows before shuffling off in the direction of the only tavern this town had.

"Father...I _love_ him! Why can't I marry him?"

It was the cry of a young maiden, and Al promptly ignored it. Things of these nature did not matter to him. He smirked with the memory of making girls scream in pleasure back in Egypt, but that time was long gone.

"I have no dowry for you or your sisters," sighed a man's voice. "None of you will be able to marry for some time..."

"It's not fair," sobbed the woman. "My sisters and I are all fifteen now! Mary is almost twenty! We'll die as old maids."

"It can't be helped, we have no money...I am a nobleman in name only."

The arguing father and daughter stopped when they noticed Al, giving the weary man a suspicious glance.

Then the father seemed to discard Al's presence and said, "I have to get home soon. You'd best follow me."

"I hate you!" cried the daughter, and ran off. Al watched her without much sympathy. The father turned away, his footsteps leaving prints in the falling snow. Al knew his steps would soon be obscured and his very existence forgotten. He wandered off, wondering vaguely what these people considered an acceptable dowry.

As fortune would have it, Al stumbled upon the unfortunate daughter crying behind a pile of wood. Al watched her for a second before turning to leave, but she reached out and grabbed his ankle.

"Are you just going to watch me?" she whispered. "Have you no heart?"

"No," he replied hoarsely. "I am no one."

"You must be _someone_," she protested. "Everyone exists. That is what the Lord teaches us."

Al didn't reply, wondering where he could possibly fit in the Lord's world. He was a monster, an abomination on humanity. He swallowed hard, holding back the ever present tears that seemed to accompany him. She had the same look in her eyes, and he bent down and brushed the tears from her face, his thumb dirty and calloused.

"They'll freeze," he said quietly. "Why are you so sad?"

"I cannot marry the one I love," confessed the girl, her matted blonde hair in her eyes. "I am poor."

"All of Earth is poor," he informed her. "This is a miserable, wretched life we all lead, myself more than any."

"You're depressing," remarked the girl morosely. "You're not good at cheering people up."

"I never said I was."

"Who are you?"

Al hesitated. "A monster."

She met his wanton gaze with her big, innocent ones and said, "You're very kind, I think. You just don't know it yet."

"Who is it that you love?"

Her eyes lit up, and she began describing her beloved with detail, and Al could tell she really cared for this man. When she had finished, he abruptly stood.

"Where are you going?"

"I hope you get to marry him." was all Al said in response.

He walked into the forest, a good deal away from the village so that there would be no chance of being sighted, and looked within himself, trying to summon the magical powers he seemed to have acquired recently. He'd been experimenting with them for years now, the only new idea in a world of drudgery and repetition. He was scared to explore it too much in fear that it too would become mundane.

He fisted a clump of dirt and poured his magic in it, wishing for a solution to the girl's problem. When he opened his eyes, the dirt had transformed into gold coins, enough for a dowry for all three sisters. He tied the coins rags he ripped off from his clothing and wondered how to give them the gold.

Why was he doing this? He had no idea. He wasn't one to do charity or care about others. In five years this gift wouldn't matter at all, lost in a sea of suffering and eventual forgetfulness.

He remembered a spell he had figured out and used it, calling animals from the forest to his side. A horse, probably a runaway, trotted up to his side. It was white and glossy, healthy from its time in the wilderness. He clambered onto it and straightened up his clothes, tying his scruffy hair in a ponytail. He vaguely wished he had a razor or a knife to shave his beard with, but to no avail.

He clambered onto the horse, holding the bags of gold awkwardly. He commanded the horse to follow the scent of the maiden, which, considering the horse had only the vaguest idea of what she smelled like from her scent on Al's clothes, did a remarkable job of finding her home.

He was planning to anonymously drop the gold into her window, so he was surprised to see her staring back at him when he arrived. He blinked it surprise and cleared his gravelly throat.

"Hello."

"Are you going to rape me?" Her voice was strangely calm.

"No."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then what are you here for?"

Al soundlessly handed her the gold. "For your dowry."

"There are three." It was not a question.

"For your sisters."

"Who are you?"

Al quickly decided on a name. "Nicholas."

Her haggard face broke into a wide smile. "You are my saint!"

He allowed himself the tiniest hint of a grin. "Forget you ever saw me."

He rode away, the wind whipping at his filthy hair. For the first time in years it actually felt good. It would have been even better if she _had_ forgotten she'd ever seen him, instead of telling the villagers about him, ensuring his return to that snowy village once a year on that snowy night.

He was their Saint Nicholas.

* * *

You're Santa Claus?" asked Chisame flatly. "_You're_ Santa Claus? Congratulations, you've ruined my childhood. You've also made cute Santa outfits a lot less appealing."

Al smiled cheerily in response.

"How romantic!" gushed Konoka. "You're so sweet!"

"Ah...well...those were back in my murder and pillaging days, so I don't know about that..."

Chisame shook her head. "Harsh, man. You didn't even get the chick."

He shrugged. "She probably had lice."

"So did you." retorted Asuna.

"Wanna check?"

"Ew..." squealed Asuna, jumping back.

Konoka reached over and ruffled Al's hair. He gave her an icy look, but she pretended not to notice. "No lice here!" she chirped. "Your hair is really thick and soft. It's like a big furry bear's!"

"Yeah, with all the supposed chest hair," grumbled Chisame, suppressing the urge to reach over and touch his head. Asuna displayed no such qualms and took a deep whiff of his ponytail.

"It smells nice too!" she announced.

"Maybe you two better be getting to your dorm..."

They jumped to their feet, their hands lingering over his head.

"Bye..." called Konoka wistfully, now filled with the unquenchable desire to braid Al's hair.

When they were gone, Al leered at Chisame, who was crossing her arms.

"You know you're curious," smirked Al. "There's no one to see you."

Chisame gave in to her carnal desires and patted his head.

* * *

Reviews are love! :)


	19. 43 Before Christ

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

These chapters are sort of my way of getting to the heart of it, I guess. XD That was real descriptive, I know. Well, enjoy it, regardless. :)

* * *

"Hey, Colonel?" asked Asuna curiously.

"Yes?"

"You claim that used used to be a not-very-nice person, but I don't see that. I mean, duh, you're a pervert, but other than that you're decent. And that story with chibi-master Zecht showed us how you changed and all, but what were you like before that?"

Al wondered if Filius would object to being called "chibi-master". He thought about it and came to the conclusion that he really wouldn't give a shit.

"Hmm...you _really_ want to know what I used to be like?" he chuckled.

Chisame shrugged. "I'm sorta curious myself."

"Me too." admitted Konoka.

Al smirked. "I'll go as far back as I can, then. How about Egypt? That's about as far as I can go with telling you some of the private things in my past."

Chisame, Konoka, and Asuna simultaneously quenched the curiosity to know about Al's "private past".

"It was back in the last parts of the previous millennia...no, that's wrong...the one before that...the turning of the time, when Christ was born..."

"B.C." reminded Chisame dryly.

"Ah, yes, that's right. Before Christ. Yes, well, it was around that time, and Cleopatra VIII was in power, and I was only beginning to discover who I really was..."

* * *

Al drunkenly clinked glasses with a woman- he'd forgotten who. Maybe it was Cleopatra...but the nose wasn't big enough for that. It had to be one of her servants, or maybe one of those woman they'd sent to please him. He toppled over onto her, grappling awkwardly with her as he sloppily kissed her. Someone took the wine from his hand, and he grunted his approval at the woman's ministrations.

He didn't even bother with taking his clothes off, just made her sufficiently nude for him to enjoy himself. When he was finished with her he moved on to the other woman moaning in his ear, using his increased stamina to his advantage. He partied in this fashion for several hours before retiring to his bedroom, where he ignored the stench of sweat and sex and slept soundly.

"Sir?"

He ignored the voice. Not worth his time.

"Sir?"

Not worth it, although she sounded pretty. Pretty or not, he'd do her.

"_Sir?_"

"What?" he said crossly, immediately grabbing the woman and planting a kiss on her. He would've gone farther, too, but she slapped him. He fell back into the bed, confused.

"I don't care if you _are_ a god," she growled. "But I was raised better than that."

"Oh."

"Your breakfast is ready."

He yawned. "Go then."

"Aren't you going to thank me?"

"No."

"As I expected," she huffed, then stomped out. He stuck his tongue out in response. He casually ate his breakfast, not bothering to dress or get out of bed. When he was done he lounged around in comfort, waiting for someone to send up a concubine or a maid.

The woman from earlier reappeared, and Al examined her more closely. Her skin was darker than most Egyptians' and her eyes were unusually blue, just as blue as his. She was gorgeous, and he decided to make her his own.

"What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he asked. She did not avoid his gaze or flinch at the sight of his naked body lying spread out on the sheets.

"I have been assigned to be your personal maid." she said distastefully.

"You don't sound thrilled."

She did not react, gathering his disgustingly dirty dishes together.

"Don't worry, I won't get mad."

"I am not pleased," she admitted. "I know of your reputation. So you will not die, what of it? It seems more of a curse than a blessing."

"It seems, it seems..." he answered evasively. "So what if it seems to you? I am unique, I am special. I am immortal, and I can do with this gift what I please."

"You are a thoughtless man," she spat.

"Now I might get angry," warned Al. "So be quiet if you know what's good for you."

"I don't know many things," she replied. "But I know not to tangle with men like you."

"We can _tangle_ all you want," smirked Al.

"This is why I hate men like you, you're all pigs," growled the woman.

"At least I'm an attractive pig," said Al absent-mindedly. "It could be worse. At least my women enjoy themselves when they're with me."

"Do they really?" she replied scathingly. "Lucky for them." She left briskly, an Al was left to stare at the ceiling of his extravagant room.

He had everything a man could want, so why did he feel so empty?

* * *

"It's time for dinner. It might be cold, I had trouble finding you."

Al looked up from his thick book. "I should've informed you where I'd be, I apologize."

"That was unexpectantly nice," spat his maid, whose name, he'd learned, was Lalah. "I didn't think you cared for others."

"Who said I did?" replied Al pointedly.

"Dinner, _sir_."

"You can have it. I'm not hungry."

Lalah was surprised, he could tell. "Why? Is this another ploy to get laid?"

"Dear Lalah," snickered Al. "I don't need ploys to get laid. It happens naturally around here."

"That's right, you have your own harem because they think you're a god."

"Who am I to deny them?"

"With all due respect, please go to hell."

"Glad to see you're comfortable around me. I hope the food tastes good."

"Thank you...I guess."

Al hummed and returned to his book.

* * *

"Do you want me to call your women in?" asked Lalah disdainfully.

"No..." replied Al absent-mindedly. "That's all right. I'm reading."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes..."

"Are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever?" She reached for his forehead.

Al shied away, never fond of physical contact other than sex. It made him think of painful beatings and harsh words and the feeling of not mattering. Lalah noticed this and retreated quickly.

"Did I upset you?" she asked quietly.

"No...I'm just messed up."

"Yeah," agreed Lalah. "You are."

Al saw her true beauty for the first time and wished that she liked him even a little.

"Three days."

"Hmm?" Al looked up from his reading.

"Three days since you've visited your harem. Why?" Lalah's beautiful eyes were finally reflecting emotion other than disdain.

"I'm busy...I haven't been interested."

"But..._why_?"

Al gave her a quick flash of a smile. "You inspired me."

"I can't take credit for changing a god."

"I'm no god and you know it."

Lalah was silent for a long moment. "You're not entirely human."

His blue eyes revealed pain and confusion. "I don't know why. I'm scared that I will _never_ know why. How can I live with that?"

Lalah reached out for him again, and this time he didn't flinch. "Maybe I can help you with that."

It wasn't Albireo Imma's first kiss, but it felt like it was. He wanted to _pretend _like it was, because it more meaningful than anything else ever had.

* * *

Albireo had never known the joy of falling asleep with one woman and waking up with her in his arms. He felt like he was now privy to some special secret of the universe. Falling in love could do that to a man.

Lalah opened her eyes groggily. "Good morning, Al."

"Good morning," he murmured. "I hope you're not mad."

"Why would I be?"

"I thought you might...regret this." He was not a normal human, after all. Even so, the very idea of her rejection pained him greatly.

"I try to live my life with no regrets."

He smiled. "That seems like a good policy." He let his smooth, manicured fingers trace her collarbone, and she allowed him. It was a good feeling, one he cherished.

"Albireo, what do you think of me? Am I just another one of your toys?"

Al shook his head. "If anything, I am one of _your_ toys. I would do anything for you."

"Do you...?" Lalah hesitated, aware that Albireo was a coward in love.

Albireo grinned sheepishly. "I love you, Lalah."

"I love you too, Albireo."

* * *

"Move out of the way!"

It was a scream too late. It was Albireo's fault, Albireo's fault that she was in the room to begin with, his fault that she was close to him, his fault that he was targeted in the first place, his damn fault for _watching her die in his arms_.

He held her close, wishing that she would stop bleeding, that he could just pour his life into hers. It wasn't fair, he wasn't a good man why should he be immortal? Or was it was _because _he was a bad man that he was cursed this way?

"A-Albireo..." she spluttered, her throat coarse. He felt his tears drip down his face.

"Lalah..."

"It's not fair."

"I know," he sobbed. "I'm sorry! I know!"

"It...should've been you..." rasped Lalah, her eyes lit with the dying flame a resentment. "It's not...fair, you..."

Albireo stopped crying. To hear it from her was worse than thinking it. It hurt. It hurt a lot, to know she hated him as much as he hated himself.

Whatever Albireo was, he never found out. Lalah died, and he was alone again.

He looked at the assassins coldly and picked up his sword.

* * *

Chisame's face was red with rage. "No offense, Al, but...that Lalah...she was a bit of a..."

"Bitch?" supplied Konoka.

"Exactly," agreed Asuna. "You deserve better!"

"I understand how you'd see it that way," nodded Al. "I've thought the same way many a time...and that event _did_ set my on a path of self-destruction for many years...but I can't blame her for what she did. Dying is an unimaginable pain."

"Is it?" questioned Konoka.

"Yeah, _is it_?" asserted Chisame.

"It's a great mystery to _me_," reminded Al. "One I may never get to solve."

"The circle of life..." sang Chisame and Asuna under their breaths. Konoka clung to Al's arm. "You've had such a sad life!" she exclaimed.

"What can I do? I've had good times too. _Every _life is a sad life."

"Amen, sister," agreed Chisame.

Al looked at his tea. Had he unintentionally slipped alcohol in there? He made shooing motions. "You should go, let an old man be alone with his thoughts."

Chisame gave him a lingering glance. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. A little time alone won't hurt."

"If you say so...but creepy old guys like you need all the company they can get."

Al couldn't help but laugh at that.

* * *

Lalah is named after Lalah Sune of Mobile Suit Gundam, because I am a nerd. Reviews are love! :)


	20. 1993 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't know Negima.

Last chapter before Epilogue! :)

Enjoy!

* * *

"Colonel-han?"

"Yes?" said Al patiently. These girls were like toddlers, always asking questions.

Konoka pondered on how to phrase the sentence. "How did you end up bound to the library here?"

"I knew you'd come to that eventually," he sighed, a sigh that was only sighed by those who had suffered with the attentions of pubescent girls. "I'll have to tell this story through another man's eyes for most of it, as I wasn't conscious for a good deal."

"Wow," breathed Asuna. "That must've been one scary battle to take you down! I can't even imagine it!"

"That's very kind of you," smiled Al. "I wasn't alone, of course. Nagi and Arika-chan were with me as well. We were in Istanbul at the time..."

"What?" exploded Chisame. "You mean you really did know where Nagi was all this time?"

"No...in hindsight, it really was rather obvious, and I _did _have my suspicions...but in the long run, I was blind-sided, an event that doesn't happen often."

"Just tell the story," urged Konoka.

Al paused. "I don't want to tell this story twice. Why don't we invite Negi and Setsuna down to hear it too?"

"How long will that take?" asked Asuna irritably.

"Only a little while. I already asked them to come today," chuckled Al.

The girls glared at him for his joint intuition and presumptuousness. Five minutes later, a very serious-looking Negi and Setsuna burst in the door.

"Colonel-san?" yelled Negi. "Are we in time to hear the story?"

"Please, take a seat, help yourself to food..."

"Start the damn story!" bellowed Chisame, and Al looked slightly taken aback.

"Yes, yes...this was only ten years ago, as, like I said, we were in Istanbul," began Al. "I had taken to resting my real body, as we'd been in a series of strenuous battles before that, and was using a shadow of myself, the kind you saw in Mahora Budokai...I still wonder if, maybe I'd been there in person, things would've turned out differently..."

* * *

"Al!" yelled Nagi, his voice hoarse with the strain of battle. "Al, please, help! I'm sorry, but where are you?"

Al panted slightly, his hologram body flickering in and out of view. "Where's Arika?"

"I-I don't know! It's the Lifemaker, Al, the Lifemaker!"

Al thanks whatever deity there was that Arika had already given birth. This would've much worse if she was still carrying little Negi.

It was already bad enough- his real body was in pained convulsions a mile away, blood spurting from several injuries, while Nagi was getting increasingly hurt, and he wasn't even sure where Arika was in the mass of demons.

"Nagi!" called a distinctively female voice. "Nagi, I'm here!"

Al winked tiredly at Nagi, who grinned broadly at the sound of his wife's voice. Al stood his ground in front of the demons, refusing to let a single demon pass between them. His mind was slowly going black, fading in and out of consciousness, and he knew he was going to lose control of this body soon.

"Al! Al, we're in trouble!"

Al swallowed, feeling his Adam's apple bob. "Yes. I agree." he said quietly, his breathing shallow.

The Lifemaker. The Lifemaker was in front of him, and it had the body of Filius Zecht.

Al's jaw was set despite his terrible fear. This was the ultimate desecration of his closest friend. This was blasphemy, and although he could not be called a god-fearing man, this was _wrong_. This was more wrong than Al's own immortality, more wrong than anything he'd ever seen.

"Does this make you angry?" asked his friend-no, the _Lifemaker_- in Filius's monotonous voice. "Do you like seeing your own friend, Albireo?"

It sickened Al to hear Filius speak his name in that state.

"You want to hurt me, don't you? You want to break me, rip me out of this body, don't you? Why don't you give it a try?" taunted the Lifemaker.

Al forced his head away from the terrible sight, and was relieved to see Nagi, helping a limping Arika heading their way. Nagi must've seen something in Al's eyes, because he clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder reassuringly. Then he saw Zecht, and his eyes widened.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes." sneered the Lifemaker, and he stabbed Arika through the chest.

"NO!" screeched Nagi, his voice like a wounded animal. "You bastard!"

Nagi and Al ran to her side, but just as Al was going to begin healing them, Filius's body appeared at their side. He grabbed Al's arms and, with a quick snap, broke both of Al's hands. The pain hit him, and his hold on the fake body wavered.

"You really think that's going to stop me?" he asked pleasantly, his voice not betraying a sign of the extreme pain he was in.

Filius's body chuckled. "Not at all." He then split the fake body down the middle, right in front of a horrified Nagi and Arika.

"Where's the Princess?" asked the Lifemaker calmly.

"She's right here!" yelled Nagi defiantly, holding his woman.

"Not _her_. The real Princess. The one you call Asuna."

"Nagi..."

"Yes, Arika?" said Nagi, scared.

"Punch him. Punch him really hard." she whispered, and Nagi obeyed her orders, giving her hands one last squeeze.

It took Al a good ten minutes to get his real body to the scene of the battle, and when he did, Nagi was fighting the Lifemaker, and Arika was lying on the ground, holding desperately onto life. Al rushed to her and placed his broken hands on the wound, pouring healing energy into her.

"Thank you, Albireo-san," she said weakly. "How's the fight going?"

"I'm worried."

He wanted her to tell him that he was a fool, that they could beat him, but she did no such thing.

"Albireo-san?"

"Yes, Arika-sama?"

"I have a plan."

Her eyes were grave, and he nodded. He had had the same idea, but he didn't want to take this course of action.

"Are you prepared, Arika-sama?"

"Yes. And you? This will not be pleasant for either of us."

Al smiled, a genuine smile, and Arika was surprised to see that his real smile was so sad. "Yes. I have done more painful things."

"Not many, even in your long life."

"No, not many." he admitted.

Arika's beautiful eyes met his, and she grasped his hands. "Remember me, Albireo Imma. Please."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "I will never forget you, my liege."

"Your loyalty always surprised me. I thought that an immortal man would have better things to do...but you never abandoned me...I...I have only seven soldiers..."

"...But they are the strongest seven." he finished. He kissed her forehead, then stood straight and tall.

"Albireo," called Nagi. "How is she?"

"I am very sorry, Nagi," he replied. "But we have a plan."

"What?" he said incomprehensibly.

"You will have to say your final goodbye."

"What?" cried Nagi. "Al, you were supposed to save her! What the hell, man? What-no, you're kidding-I-"

"Don't ignore your opponent," growled Al, creating a huge magical seal in the air. "Nagi, you need to get out of here. You need to leave."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sealing the Lifemaker."

"Where? Not in _Arika_?"

"No. But she is dying, and I need her power."

"Seal her in me! I have the power!"

"Only I can do this. I have a connection to the Lifemaker that you cannot replicate. I am very sorry."

"If I die..." whispered Nagi.

"Hmm?"

"If I die...will you use our artifact to show Negi what I'm like?"

"You life is not in danger here."

"Just promise me!"

Al nodded slightly, although he doubted he would be in any shape to do that anytime soon. He would be a little preoccupied battling the Lifemaker's soul.

He rose into the air, and Filius Zecht's body greeted him. "Hello, Albireo. You think your plan has escaped my notice? You think you can handle me?"

"With the power of a queen I can." he replied calmly.

Filius's body raised its eyebrow. "We'll see."

Al ignored the taunt and began chanting the Latin words for the extremely intricate spell he was winding around the Lifemaker, himself, and Arika. Looking down, he saw the Nagi was still there, holding his woman in his arms. Nagi would leave when he had to, he was sure of it...or at least he hoped so.

The Lifemaker continued to taunt him, talking about Filius and his past, bringing up memories long forgotten, but Al ignored him. He hadn't gotten to two thousand years of age without a lack of concentration.

He finished the chant and watched the tendrils of magic wrap their way around him, Arika, and the Lifemaker.

"So you're binding the three of us?" growled Filius's body.

"No," replied Al sweetly. "Just us. Arika must be dead by now."

Nagi was still there, but the spell didn't include him.

"You really think you can hold my power?" said the Lifemaker, amused. "I created you, after all."

Al met his gaze. "Yes. This spell came from a man more powerful than I- Filius. I trust in its ability to bind us together."

"Are you sure you want that? You will not survive intact."

"You are nothing more than a monster who creates monsters. As a monster, I must do my part in ridding this world of your presence."

Filius's lips cracked into a grin, and it was the last thing Al saw before the world went black.

* * *

Konoemon whistled a merry tune, flipping through the pages of the pornographic magazine he had hidden under his desk.

Shizuna, a college student interning for him, stuck her head through the door. "Headmaster, there's a call for you."

"A call for me? Ignore it, please."

"It's from Istanbul."

Konoemon's head perked up. "Istanbul? Isn't that where Ala Rubra are now?"

"It's about them, sir. It's a hospital in Istanbul, and they say they have an unidentified female corpse and an injured man in their care. The man's contact information in his robes led them here."

"Only two? It has to be Arika and Nagi..."

Shizuna shook her head. "Not the Thousand Master. The injured man has blue hair."

"Albireo! He's injured? I didn't know it was possible!"

Konoemon jumped to his feet with amazing agility for a man well into his seventies. "Book us two tickets to Istanbul right away."

"I already did, sir." smirked Shizuna.

Konoemon was already out the door. What the hell was going on?

* * *

The doctor led Konoemon to a private ward deep into the large hospital. "Mr. Konoe," he said in English, a common language. "We'd like to speak to you before we allow you to visit him."

"What about the corpse?" asked Konoemon, worried about Arika. "Can't I identify it?"

"Later, please," pleaded the doctor. "We're having trouble restraining the patient. A group of hikers found them in the mountains, and they were transferred here. We're the best hospital in Istanbul, but his injuries are incomprehensible...they heal themselves and them reappear an hour later...I can't describe it..."

Konoemon reached up to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's fine, I understand. If it the man I think it is, he suffers from a very unique condition."

The let him into the room, and the first thought in Konoemon's mind was that he had never seen Al look so vulnerable. He was pale, hospital gown barely covered his sweat-coated body and his hair was loose and knotted from his convulsions. He was calm now, but Konoemon could see the sweat and blood that had soaked into the hospital gown. He approached Albireo to see what was wrong, and Al let out a low, gurgling moan. Konoemon stepped back in alarm. That voice had been more demonic than it had been Albireo's, and as he watched he began shaking violently. That was only the beginning- soon Al was screaming so hard and loud that his voice cracked, and began dry-heaving at an intensity that led Konoemon to believe he had emptied the contents of his stomach long ago. Blood began spurting out of his abdomen, although Konoemon couldn't see an injury.

He put his hand on Al's bare shoulder, and Al wrenched it away, snapping his bared teeth at him. His eyes were open, but he could not see Konoemon. He was in a pain so incredible that in was on another level, otherworldly in its accessibility.

Shizuna burst into the room. "Arika's dead! Headmaster, I can't believe it!"

Konoemon nodded sharply. "We'll send for her body. It is a great loss, but we must deal with the living right now."

Shizuna's eyes widened when he saw Albireo writhing on the bed. "Is that Al?"

"Yes. I believe he has taken a demon into his body."

"But...what demon could possibly be strong enough to do that to_ Albireo_?" gasped Shizuna.

"I don't know," Konoemon lied. "You must not breath a word of this to anyone."

"I understand," nodded Shizuna. "What do we do?"

"We're going to bring him with us," decided Konoemon. "I should be able to help him. Mahora's magical staff is strong, if we need to we can use them."

He approached Al again and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was deathly white, and as he drew his arm back Al's hand reached out and gripped his tightly. His mouth opened and his eyes stared at him, like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

Konoemon pried Al's wrist from his and growled, "Doctor! This man's wrists are broken! You didn't treat this, did you?"

The doctor entered nervously. "N-No, I'm sorry, but we couldn't get near him. Every time we tried...I'm not a superstitious man, but I felt like evil was pouring out of him. We thought he was a demon."

"No, he's just fighting one..." Konoemon sighed. "I'll carry him."

Konoemon scooped Al from the bed, hospital gown and all.

"W-What're you doing?" asked the doctor.

"We're transferring him to our hospital," reassured Konoemon. "We're the only ones who can treat him."

Konoemon cradled Al in his arms. Konoemon wasn't a big man, but Al looked fragile in his arms. "He's so light. I don't think he's doing very well. He's burning up." Konoemon propped Al's head up and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Let's get going. I'll visit the morgue first and pick up Albireo's clothes."

'They're bloody..." protested the doctor, but they paid him no heed.

"I'll meet you out front. I have to get Al a passport, because I'm sure he doesn't have one. I have to secure a plane, too." informed Shizuna.

"No need. Ricardo's got one in the station here. We can use that one."

Shizuna agreed, although he secretly thought it was ugly.

They flew express to Mahora as quickly as possible, Albireo draped over a table in the back. Konoemon attempted to feed him but ended up getting a metal spoon bitten in half and very nearly mauled.

They immediately got Al to their hospital, and Konoemon paced the room, trying to figure out what to do. His only real option to alleviate Al of his pain would be to bind him to the World Tree, but that would be a long-lasting seal, and Konoemon didn't know how Al would feel about it. On the other hand, Al was in obvious agony and could potentially_ die_. Al's life being in danger was not something the older man was accustomed to, Konoemon was sure, and he wanted to get the man back to his calm and sarcastic self as soon as possible.

So he waited for Al to wake up. He had to ask him what he wanted to Konoemon to do, and Konoemon was a patient man. Al had been his first friend, the first man to ever listen to him, and he was finally going to repay him.

* * *

When Al opened his eyes all he saw was a haze of blood. He blinked, and the blood ran down Al's face and onto the bed he was laying on.

Bed? He was on a bed? Where was he?

Arika! Nagi, the Lifemaker! What had happened?

"Albireo," came an voice to his left. It sounded familiar... "You're awake already?"

He choked on his words, bloody spit clogging his throat. "Where's Nagi?"

"I don't know. We didn't find him."

"You...didn't find him? But...he...didn't...die. Arika..."

"She's dead."

"Lifemaker..."

"It _was_ him," confirmed Konoemon grimly. "Al, you're not going to be conscious for long, so I need to talk to you. Remember the home you built here a long time ago?"

His mind was so full of pain and sorrow that he had trouble concentrating. "Yes...I think so."

"Try to remember. I want to seal you under the Library, down there. The magic of the World Tree will help you recover, but it will take time."

"I...have...plenty of time." he choked out, the back of his eyeballs sizzling with heat. "You...may proceed."

"Are you sure? You will be in an unbelievable amount of pain-"

Al grunted as his organs were slowly being fried. "I'm...in pain...already. Do what you have to."

He passed out, and Konoemon gritted his teeth. This was not going to be fun.

* * *

Konoemon watched over Al personally for almost six months, even though Al was rarely conscious during this time. He cast a sealing spell over several weeks, casting a little each day, strengthening the spell and caring for Al, who was frequently dehydrated and delirious with pain. He ran his school only through name during this time, trusting the care of Mahora to others for the first and only time in his life. Albireo Imma had nurtured him to become the man he was today, and Konoemon wasn't going to let him suffer.

He thought that, and yet Albireo suffered greatly during this time. He was in a state between life and death, a state no mortal has or should ever endured. His endless battles with the Lifemaker took a huge toll on his strength, and Konoemon was aware that his willpower must be immense if he could continue to fight battles he couldn't possibly win. Konoemon's sealing spells slowly sealed the Lifemaker away, and Albireo's condition began to improve, but it saddened the old man to see his old teacher and friend like this.

But life got to him- Eishun visited him with Konoka, and Shizuna took a long vacation and Asuna caused problems at school just as Evangeline decided to take both a metaphorical and literal piss all over the Mahora's campus. Konoemon's hands were full, so as Albireo got better he was visited less and less. Konoemon would never know it, but the most painful moments of Al's recovery occurred when he wasn't there- when Albireo threw up so much that he couldn't move for days as the demonic energy dissolved his stomach, when both of Albireo's legs broke because of the pressure of the Lifemaker's energy. Albireo didn't begrudge Konoemon- he was perfectly aware of the duties belonging to a father, grandfather, and head of the biggest magical school in Japan. He suffered quietly, making sure to appear healthy and happy when Konoemon visited him. And he was happy to an extent- he was living in the house he had built for himself, reading books on every conceivable subject, and altogether living a quiet, simple life in order to keep the world safe. He was fine with this outcome, although he sincerely regretted Arika's death and Nagi's disappearance. Now he could only wait for a chance to fill his promise to Nagi and repay Konoemon for all he had done for him.

Ten years wasn't _that_ long of a wait, not if you really thought about it. A small price to pay for saving the world.

* * *

Al finished his story and looked at Negi with amusement. "Why are you crying?"

"Y-You're so brave, Colonel-san," he stuttered. "Doing all of this to save everyone. And my mother...she died fighting. I'm so...proud of her..." Negi would've dissolved into a complete mess if Chisame and Asuna didn't knock him on the head. He recovered to smile and say, "Thank you, Colonel-san, for telling me this story. It makes me love my parents and repsect you even more."

"Wow," said Chisame grumpily. "You really drew the short end of the stick in life, didn't you, Colonel-san?"

"The price that comes with longevity."

"The others didn't really have to suffer, but you were stuck down here in pain for years and no one even knew."

Albireo didn't react. "That does not bother me much, I-"

He was cut off by Konoka, who, using Haruna's definition, _glomped _Al. "It's so sad! You've gone through so much!"

"I don't tell you these stories for you to pity me," reminded Al.

"Then why _do _you tell the stories?" asked Asuna.

"Because I am bored," replied Al sweetly. "And you happen to be nearby."

"Jerk," mumbled Asuna.

Setsuna stood up and bowed. "Thank you for your hospitality and your gift in telling us this tale. I must take my leave."

Konoka clung to her arm. "Don't go without me, Secchan!"

"See you soon, Colonel pervert!" called Asuna.

Albireo raised his teacup and expected them all to leave him alone once again, only to see Chisame still sitting at her seat.

"Don't you have to go?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged. "And do what? Update my website? I thought I'd stay here for some company."

Albireo's smile had never been more genuine.

* * *

Basically, he continues to tell them stories, but you guys don't get to hear them. XD One more chapter! :)

Reviews are love! :)


	21. 2010 Anno Domini

Disclaimer- I don't own Negima.

Hello for the last time! Thank you, Michaluna, for reviewing. The rest of you suck. I mean I love you. No, you suck.

I have a really good time writing this fanfiction, and I hope you enjoyoed it as much as I did. I worked hard on this last chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. :)

* * *

Chisame knocked on the large, imposing doors impatiently. There was no dragon anymore- Albireo had long since released it to have fun in the newly Masquerade-less world. It was a big day today, although Chisame was keeping her excitement to herself as to what a big day it really was.

The huge stone doors opened, and Chisame trod in, following the well-worn path to Al's mansion. She wondered if this was the last time she'd ever see these beautiful gardens.

Albireo was reading on his porch, as usual. He looked completely calm and the same as usual, sans his mage's cloak. His black turtleneck and skirt served to make him look pale and tired, but his expression was content.

"How can you be so patient?" she marveled. "After twenty years I'd be climbing the walls to get out of here."

"Patience is a virtue." replied Al absent-mindedly.

"That's bullshit. Are you ready, or you going to be a complete pussy and put on some makeup?"

"I'm ready." Albireo stood and put the book away, brushing his hands free of dust.

"Aren't you going to bring anything?"

"No, I have everything I need in here," Al patted the pocket of his vest, which, if Chisame thought about it, probably contained two photographs and a hand-made doll.

"You're so weird," she grumbled. "Get with the times, old man."

He didn't reply, so she took her arm in his and led him out of the mansion, down the cobbled pathway, right to the edge of the doors. He stopped, shooting her a wry smile.

"Did you know that I haven't actually been on these steps before?" commented Al, his heavy-lidded eyes gazing down past the door.

"_Never?_ Not even when you first came here?"

"Konoemon asked Lucciola-" -That was the dragon's name- "-To fly me here the first time. Funny, isn't it? I've lived here seventeen years and I've never even been on the front step."

"Sad," grouched Chisame. "I shouldn't be spending my time with an old man like you. It can't be healthy."

"My age is past the point where it matters, darling," drawled Al, a glint of amusement in his eye. "Now please, I've been waiting seventeen years for this."

Chisame grudgingly smiled, looping her arm through his again and taking a full step with him outside the doors. Al smiled lazily back at her, not throwing up or otherwise indisposed, a feeling that must have felt liberating for him. They walked up the long staircase, Albireo keeping up with her easily, practically bounding up stairs in his floor-length skirt.

They traversed the library as quickly as possible, Al marveling at the sights he hadn't seen since he'd built the library. He hitched his skirt slightly when they dodged the booby-traps, allowing Chisame a glimpse of hairy ankles. She smiled at the sight, as it felt vaguely nostalgic of the times when Albireo would tell her, Konoka, and Asuna stories about his past.

That reminded her. "Konoka and Asuna came to town for this, by the way. They want to meet you later today."

"The Princesses of both worlds? I _am_ a lucky man today, aren't I?"

Chisame blushed with embarrassment. Compared to them she probably wasn't much of a prize.

Al caught her look and smirked. "Don't worry, Chiu-chan, you're a princess too."

"I am?"

"Yes, a princess of the virtual world."

She smacked him on the head. "You're a dick."

"But it's true, isn't it?"

Chisame grinned sheepishly and didn't reply. They reached the main floor of the library, where Collet Farandole and Bookstore-chan were talking with another demi-human about the practicality of broomsticks in libraries. The world sure had changed since Al had last lived in it.

Al took no heed of this fact and waved cheerily at the girls, whose eyes widened as he passed. Collet shrieked, "Is that Albireo Imma? From Ala Rubra?"

"Yes," replied Nodoka nervously, waving to him.

Al leered at them and continued walking. Chisame had to jog to keep up with his quick pace.

"What do you plan to do now?" she asked, panting a little. She was out of shape from staying inside on the computer all day. The life of a hikikomori sure could be tough sometimes...

Al shrugged. "Maybe travel, as I used to. I've done enough reading lately, ne?"

"For sure," agreed Chisame. "I'm surprised you haven't burned out your eyes."

"How do you know I didn't?" he said teasingly.

She crossed her arms. "Now you're just being stupid, dumbass. Teasing like that doesn't make me laugh."

"That's why I do it."

"So being so...incorrigible."

He winked in reply, aggravating Chisame even more.

They finally made it to the front door, and a hint of hesitation crossed Al's face, as though he couldn't quite believe he was doing this. Chisame knew it must've been miserable to live alone for ten years, with only two people when even knew you were _alive_, rarely visited and rarely remembered. Even when he'd participated in the Budokai, it had only earned him the rights to occasional visits from barely pubescent girls. That loneliness that had driven Albireo to share some of his most private memories with students he barely knew, girls who had no right to know Albireo Imma's personal sufferings. Chisame respected Albireo all the more for coming through "sane"- although she'd never tell him that.

He turned the doorknob and stepped out into the air for the first time in seventeen years. He seemed to be in a daze at first, his precious facade cracking for the first time since she'd met him. He breathed in deeply, smelling grass and sky and manure and every good and bad thing about nature. She saw him close his eyes and angle his head upward, as though he were afraid of looking at sky for fear it would disappear.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked, a tad impatient.

He held up a finger for silence, relishing in the feeling that he was _free_, free to do what he wanted and to go where he wished.

"The World Tree," he decided. "Then a restaurant. I've been cooking my own meals for _too long._ I can't eat with my hologram projection."

"Sounds good to me," agreed Chisame secretly cackling. Albireo was playing right into their plan. She quickly sent Konoka a text telling her so and trooped on with Al, who was walking very slow, taking in the sights and sounds of Mahora.

"The campus is so different when it's not festival time," he murmured. "Almost a different place. Magical."

Chisame tried to squelch the soft spot in her heart that wanted to hug Al. Think of nasty things...Rule 34...internet standards...

He turned to her, smiling. "It's funny how much more you appreciate when its been this long. I must look rather foolish."

Chisame shook her head, noting with sadness the deep bags, pallid skin, and shaking hands of Albireo. He may not share his body with the Lifemaker anymore, but he was still weak from his extended battle with him. Chisame could see it in his eyes. He was fragile porcelain, easily shattered into a million pieces.

That's why they were planning to hand him over to the proverbial bull in the china shop.

This plan rocked, Chisame had to admit it.

She brought her mind back to the present and walked with Al to the World Tree. She forced herself not to talk, as Albireo was obviously enjoying the sights he was seeing. When they reached the World Tree, Albireo smiled. It wasn't a tired smirk or a perverted grin or a leer, it was a _smile_, plain and simple. Chisame had never seen him look so at peace.

When they reached the World Tree, Konoka and Asuna were there. Konoka was wearing a gorgeous red kimono, a flower in her long brown hair. Asuna was dressed extremely casually, a halter top over ripped jeans. Chisame knew this wasn't disrespect but proof of how comfortable Asuna was with Al, having spent the last few years in stuffy evening gowns convincing Politician so-and-so to do task X and Y.

"Sanders-kun!" called Konoka, running towards him in her kimono. Al didn't wince at the name and actually returned the hug when she embraced him. She also noticed that he was taller in memory, the tales of his exploits throwing him a large shadow. Asuna smirked at him, and he winked. All very Albireo-like.

"How have you been?" asked Albireo. "Your final battle with the Lifemaker was very awe-inspiring." The girls shot each other glances at that comment. Albireo had been present, but the battle with the Lifemaker to free Nagi's soul had involved a very painful process of extracting him from the seal that bound Nagi, the Lifemaker, and Albireo. In order to save Nagi, Al had had to take the brunt of the stress and pain. All in all, it had been a terrible thing to watch, and Albireo was obviously more comfortable than they were on the subject.

"Thanks," grumbled Chisame. "But you helped too, you modest dumbass."

Konoka giggled and changed the subject. "Boring, boring, boring. Lots of stupid politics and we keep having to kick Secchan's stalker's butt."

Asuna nodded in agreement. "I hate having to be smart..." she growled. "All this learning makes me angry."

Al raised an eyebrow in response. "Strange."

"Shut up, book man."

"The World Tree _is_ pretty, isn't it?" he hummed.

Asuna stuck out her tongue, finding it impossible to hate him. "You sure you're healthy enough to be out and about?"

With the recovery of Nagi, most people had been too concerned with his health to think about Albireo, who was quietly recovering from even more severe injuries in the depths of the library. Chisame and Konoka (and Jack, who'd split his time with Nagi and Al) had made sure to be there for him, and Eva had stopped by more than a few times when Al had been unconscious.

Speaking of which, Chisame checked her phone. Almost time. "Wanna sit in front of the tree for a bit?"

Al nodded slowly, and lowered himself into the grass gracefully. He eventually laid down onto the grass and closed his eyes. Perfect.

Konoka met Chisame's eyes, and Chisame reluctantly smiled. Albireo Imma looked so peaceful lying there that she almost didn't want to disturb him. There was no way to repay him for what he'd done for them, both in telling them his stories and in saving their and Nagi's life.

Chisame reached down and squeezed Al's hand. He kept his eyes closed but twitched an eyebrow and smirked, a little puzzled. Konoka knelt and placed a kiss on his cheek, and he would've most certainly said something about _that_ if Asuna hadn't whispered "Thank you," in a strange voice that sounded as if it came from all of them.

Which, of course, it did.

* * *

Albireo wasn't entirely sure why the girls had gathered together to meet him if they were just planning to leave, but that sounded like what they were doing. He pushed a pang of loneliness away and didn't bother to open his eyes. Maybe they were just trying to give him privacy.

He suddenly let out a very undignified "oof" as someone sat on his stomach. He opened his eyes to see, instead of the sky and the looming World Tree, the back of a very pink, very frilly dress. Some of the frills were poking into his face, making him want to sneeze.

"Nice to see you, Eva," he said dryly. "Why aren't you with your precious Nagi?"

"Oh, shut up," she snapped, shoving her ass farther up his chest, practically capsizing a lung as she did so.

"Nice to see you're using your real form."

He was rewarded for his comment with a very painful squeeze to the crotch.

"Aw, didn't know you cared to touch me there."

This time it was a kick to the shin.

"Eva..." he wheezed. "If you wouldn't mind, that _does_ hurt..."

"That's the damn problem!" she yelled, her shrill voice suddenly very loud to his ears. "Why can't you take care of yourself? I was actually worried about you, you idiot!"

"You were...worried...about me? Why? I can't die. Not for long."

The smack she gave him was half-hearted at best. "Don't give me that bullshit. When the Lifemaker was pulled out of you, you almost_ died_. He tried to take you out with him. You can't leave me, idiot, now that that stupid Zecht is dead, you're all I've got left!"

"You have Nagi," Albireo pulled himself up into a sitting position, and Eva sank into his chest, her body tense and her arms crossed. "You've been searching for him for years and now he's back. Shouldn't you be with him?"

Eva huffed angrily." Even if he wanted me there I don't think I'd want to be with him. Memories can be a lot sweeter than reality, and there was nothing sweet about him to begin with."

Al shook his head sadly. "You don't want him to die. It hurts, knowing you'll outlive your lover, but there's nothing you can do."

Eva pressed her face into his vest. "Yeah...but..."

He stroked her long hair with a coarse hand. "The only reason I'm even on your radar, Eva, is because I'm immortal."

"Al, listen..."

"If I were just a normal man you wouldn't even notice me," continued Al. "So don't give up on Nagi. Even doomed love is-"

Eva head-butted him. It was the only way she could think of to get his attention, and it worked. Al fell back onto the grass, groaning.

"Stop being so self-sacrificing!" shouted Eva in annoyance. "What I was trying to say is, do you like me?"

"Excuse me?" he said cautiously, rubbing his forehead.

"Do you_ like_ me? I can see how you would, considering how gorgeous and wonderful I am. Hordes of men over the centuries have wanted to lick my feet, all for the glory of just being near me..."

"I'm not interested in your foot glory, Eva," chuckled Al.

Eva turned up her nose at him. "You don't know what you're missing."

"I'm sure."

"_Do_ you like me?" The tone of Eva's voice was uncertain, revealing the fear in her heart. The fear of being hurt, the fear of being abandoned. He had it too, it was just buried deep inside him.

He hesitated slightly, just enough to let Eva know he meant his next words. "Yes, I like you. You're the person I consider most precious to me."

"Why haven't you ever _said_ anything?"

"I thought you knew."

"I can't read minds, you know."

"You're not a very good vampire."

Eva frowned at him and tugged his hair out of his ponytail in revenge, letting it fall around his shoulders.

"You look like a girl." she snickered.

Al batted his eyelashes at her. "Am I a pretty girl?"

"You're all right," admitted Eva. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm in pain," said Al truthfully. "But I'll live."

Eva took his hand in hers and laid on the grass next to him, staring at the sky through the thick branches of the World Tree. "They say if you confess your love here it will last forever."

"Forever is a long time, especially for us."

Eva smiled at him, a very tiny smile she'd rather have not let him see.

"I'm okay with that."

"Are you saying you love me, Eva?" Al, for the first time in a long time, was speechless.

"It took you five hundred years to realize that, moron? You are _so_ thick sometimes." Albireo would never know how much bravery it took to say those words.

"Hmmm. I might be able to deal with that."

"Jerk."

His large hand tightened around her small one. "Thank you, Eva."

Something shifted, and Albireo got a feeling he'd had before. It was the feeling he got when an event had occurred that would change history, like when he'd gotten involved with America's war for independence or the French resistance in WWII. He wondered how this could affect history.

Maybe not _world_ history. Maybe just _his_ history.

With a wry turn of his lips, he wondered if he'd ever tell _this_ story.

* * *

Thank you for reading this and extra thanks to the few who reviewed it. I had a great time writing this, and I hope some of you come back to reread it someday.

Reviews are love!


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